


Airborne

by 64907



Series: Skyward [3]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Epilogue, Extended Scene, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-05 16:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: It was the talk of the galaxy, an open secret that everyone knew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I'll never work on what happens after Skyward and its epilogue but I found this during a gdrive cleanup and decided to finish it. So this will make zero sense unless you've read the first two works. This is a three-part ending featuring Jun's, Sho's, and Nino's POVs. Warnings (see tags) for fluff (in my defense, these two had been through a lot) and implied torture. I never went into detail, but it's there.
> 
> Part two and three should be coming soon; just making a couple of edits as always.

With most of the preparations underway, Jun sought out Keiko.  
  
She made herself difficult to locate in the halls of the Saiphan palace. It had been four months since Jun’s ascension had taken place, and while each day was a day of newfound peace, there were whispers in the court that it would not last.  
  
The whispers never personally reached Jun’s ears, merely relayed to him by Sho in their private moments together. Sho always liked to keep the people guessing about his character and his intentions, and Jun’s own court in Saiph was no exception. In four months, Jun had seen his council skeptical about Sho’s motives in one moment and charmed by his clever words the next. He’d hardly had to do anything; Sho had easily won the favor of his court thanks to his brilliant mind and swift action.  
  
Keiko and her husband were part of the swift action, including Aiba. Sho had tasked them with familiarizing themselves with the Saiphan territory, taking care of matters that were either too small to be brought to the court’s attention or too foreign to be dealt with in the Saiphan manner.  
  
The traditional and sometimes brusque methods of the Hamali occasionally worked better than any form of revolutionary solution Jun’s own people had developed for themselves for the past decades. Men of science, it would appear, would choose to defer to a woman who held her head high and kept her hair in a tight bun.  
  
The tight bun was easy to spot in the training grounds, and the form it belonged to was unmistakably lithe and lethal that for a moment, Jun remembered the time Keiko had pressed the handle of a phaser against his palm. He watched, momentarily transfixed with how Keiko deftly ducked and rolled to her side in the simulation chamber, every charge of her phaser finding its target.  
  
With the herald announcing the presence of the King of Saiph, all trainers and trainees alike stood at attention.  
  
“At ease,” Jun said with a wave of his hand. Four months had not helped him get used to this. He may wear a ring that signified his status, but his hands had the texture of someone who’d fought to become who he was.  
  
Keiko removed the simulation goggles from her flushed face, a sheen of sweat making her temples glisten. She looked at him and made her obeisance after a moment.  
  
“Are you going to Denebia again?” she asked, and while Jun felt how the training grounds froze at the casual way she’d addressed him, he didn’t pay it any mind.  
  
He laughed. “Can Denebia be the only reason why I’m here?”  
  
“It had been the reason why you sought me out the first time,” Keiko said, stepping out of the simulation chamber and inclining her head in another passable bow. “Majesty. Shall we go somewhere private?”  
  
Jun looked over his shoulder, at the new recruits of the Royal Army. While their training had resumed, the trainers and trainees alike were undoubtedly eavesdropping. The incorporation of Hamali culture also included their love for gossip, and Jun knew what currently was the most exciting one for noblemen, soldiers, and common folk alike.  
  
The royal wedding.  
  
“Would you accompany me to a walk, then, Lieutenant?” Jun asked with a smile. “To the gardens, I suppose, since they are not far from here.”  
  
“With pleasure, Your Majesty,” Keiko said, depositing her phaser and her gloves in the hands of the nearest soldier. “You don’t mind if I’m in my training clothes, do you?”  
  
“Not at all,” Jun said honestly. He’d seen Keiko streaked with the blood of those she’d slain in battle. “This won’t take long. Probably.”  
  
“Probably,” Keiko echoed. She and Sho had that in common: the uncanny ability to remind Jun that once, he’d worn the badge of a bodyguard. “Tell me if I’m being too forward or presumptive.”  
  
“You’re not,” Jun said. “I may be a King, but before I was a King, you had to train me. I respect you in a way a pupil respects his master.”  
  
“Well, you can never shoot as well as I do,” Keiko said and they laughed together, making their way to the gardens. Jun had them expanded, allowing some of the Hamali flora to mingle amongst the Saiphan flowers. He was still learning when it came to caring for them.  
  
Upon reaching the garden’s entryway, Jun faced the herald. “I’d like a private audience with the Lieutenant.” The young man nodded and left, and Jun offered Keiko his arm.  
  
She took it and they began their stroll.  
  
“I find it strange that you still have to send your heralds away when you wish to speak alone with any Hamali,” Keiko said. “I hope that’s not the case when you wish to speak with him.”  
  
“We share my chambers; there’s no need for that,” Jun said. “And as to why I have to dismiss them first like I’m seeking their permission, your Emperor is to blame for that.” His nose twitched at the memory.  
  
Keiko laughed. “I heard he’d agreed to it in order to placate the distrustful concerns of the old council. You’ve replaced your advisers during the ascension. Surely there’s no need to honor that agreement?”  
  
“No, there isn’t,” Jun affirmed. “But it amuses him and he asked me to continue with the charade.”  
  
“Until the wedding,” Keiko concluded. She still functioned as the head of Sho’s personal security and talking to her sometimes felt like talking to Sho. Her perceptiveness was identical to Sho’s. “That’s why you sought me out.”  
  
They stopped at an alcove and took a seat there, their forms hidden by twisted vines that bore purple flowers that hung above. It gave the illusion of privacy that Jun needed.  
  
Keiko stared at him—the same, unintimidated gaze she always had. “Do you plan to make a request? I’m sworn to the Hamali throne and to your throne by extension. If my Emperor commands it, it will be done.”  
  
“I know where your loyalties lie and that’s not what I’m here for,” Jun said. “Though I appreciate the reassurance.” He smiled. “I’m here to seek permission.”  
  
He saw the change in Keiko’s eyes, how her face broke into a knowing smile. “You’re a King, Matsumoto Jun. Your word is law.”  
  
“It is,” Jun acknowledged. And yet. “You’ve heard the whispers. Listened to them.”  
  
“The royal wedding,” Keiko said, catching on. “Even without any formal announcement, it’s all the entire palace talks about. Iseya-san told us it’s also the talk in Sheratan.” She looked out, to where a view of the clear sky could be seen. “I suspect even the people outside the citadel know. It’s an open secret.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun said. His court may have their own little birds that bring them gossip, but Jun had the best one sharing his bed every night. What the court knew today was something Sho had known a week ago. “We’ll make an announcement soon, I hope. That’s not what I wish to speak about with you. I said I was here for your permission.”  
  
“To marry him?” Keiko asked.  
  
“I know you care for him,” Jun said. “Even before I learned to. Back then, in the flagship, you advised me to end my association with him, to lessen the hurt. You look out for him as much as he allows you to and you’ve always been loyal to him, always put his best interests at heart.”  
  
“A King is asking a mere lieutenant for permission,” Keiko said with a slight laugh. “He’s rubbing off you. You’re becoming unpredictable like him.”  
  
“Will you give it?” Jun asked, unable to hide the hope in his voice. “If I ask, will you—”  
  
“I told you: your word is law,” Keiko interrupted, eyes filled with amusement.  
  
“Then I give you my word since I wasn’t able to in the flagship at that time,” Jun said carefully, evenly. “I will make him happy. Each day by his side will be spent with me making myself worthy of every moment. Should it be required of me, I will fight for him and for his people, protect his planet as if it were my own.”  
  
For a moment, there was nothing in gardens save for the rustling of leaves as the east wind blew. There was understanding in Keiko’s expression, as well as hints of an expectation.  
  
It dawned on Jun then, that she had known exactly why he’d sought her out.  
  
Keiko stood, fingers tracing the petals of a purple flower that hung overhead. “You’ve looked into our culture.”  
  
She stated it as fact, and Jun nodded. “I have.”  
  
“You’ve sought the Empress mother’s approval then,” Keiko concluded.  
  
“Months ago, actually,” Jun said with a small smile. “Before my ascension.”  
  
Keiko let out a tiny laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t give him a ring.”  
  
Jun blinked. “What?”  
  
“The old texts perhaps told you that in the Hamali way, we ask for the hand of our intended by presenting them with a ring. That is true and is still practiced today,” Keiko said with a wave of her hand, and Jun caught the flash of a gold band around her finger. “But don’t give him one.”  
  
“Why not?” Jun had been presented with designs created by the most distinguished jewelry artisans in both Saiph and Hamal. He simply had to choose from them and it would be commissioned at once.  
  
“He doesn’t like rings,” Keiko said, “save for the one that signifies his house. And as you know, our Emperor isn’t exactly...traditional.” She grinned. “I wager that’s one thing you have to worry about now.”  
  
Jun sighed. Planning for his royal wedding in secret (that everyone knew, but still) while maintaining stately affairs was taxing. And yet he could manage with Sho by his side.  
  
Thinking of another kind of jewelry to present to him would be another conundrum that’d keep him up at night.  
  
Still, he valued Keiko’s input and knew it was her way of giving him her permission. “No rings, got it.”  
  
“And no necklaces,” Keiko said. Then she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. “Have I said too much? I don’t want it to be a giveaway; I know he likes it when you have to think on your own.”  
  
It would certainly be something Jun had to think about, but he could put that aside for now. He stood, and Keiko stood at attention despite the friendly smile on her face.  
  
“Thank you,” Jun said sincerely.  
  
“Have you figured it out?” Keiko teased lightly.  
  
“No, I haven’t,” Jun admitted. “But I think I will soon.”  
  
“You will,” Keiko said, and her confidence in his potential made him stop. He hadn’t been able to impress her when he’d been a member of Sho’s personal guard. Bodyguard Jun had never been the recipient of this kind of faith. “And I know because he chose you. He keeps choosing you, you realize? As his bodyguard, as his consort.”  
  
“I see I’m set to marry someone who’s never made a mistake in your eyes?” Jun asked, smiling.  
  
“Oh he makes mistakes,” Keiko said with a laugh. “Mostly concerning his own well-being. But with regards to the people he chooses to surround himself with, no.” She met Jun’s stare as though they were equals. “He chose us.”  
  
Keiko’s duties weren’t so different from Jun’s, only that they had a more direct approach to them. But Jun appreciated the reality of that once more, that their goals were so aligned that it should really come as no surprise that Saiph and Hamal would be joined in permanence.  
  
Keiko must’ve seen how the realization took over his features, for she inclined her head to excuse herself. “I’ll be returning to the training grounds, Majesty, unless you require something else from me?”  
  
Jun smiled as he considered the idea. “I do, actually.” He looked out and saw the sky just beyond. “Would you mind fetching the Emperor for me? My court’s had him for almost the entire day.”  
  
“Never one to share, are you?” Keiko said, shaking her head to hide her smile. “Very well. Will you be staying here?”  
  
“Yes,” Jun said, taking a seat in the alcove once more. “I’ll wait for him here.”  
  
Keiko gave one final bow and left with a posture and gait befitting a soldier. She may be smaller than Jun, but Jun had no doubts she still had the upper hand should they spar. Perhaps Jun should ask one of these days, before she had to leave for another diplomatic visit to another Saiphan province.  
  
He stood and reached for a flower, plucking it and straightening its petals. Crown Prince Jun had charmed countless ladies and men of his father’s court in this manner, taking them here and putting flowers in their hair. Those days belonged to another life, to a Jun he’d last seen in a planet struck with an early winter solstice.  
  
“This is the second time I’ve caught you hiding from plain view,” Sho said, and Jun couldn’t help smiling at the sound of his voice. “The first, if you don’t remember, was when you made a deal to pardon Ninomiya behind a pillar in my banquet hall. Now, tell me: what promises did you make while hidden here and with whom?”  
  
“You’re early,” Jun said, ignoring the question. He gestured to the space beside him.  
  
“Even your court is terrified of Keiko,” Sho said, climbing the few steps that led to the alcove. He didn’t sit, however, his rich, flowing robes still running like bright tapestries over the steps. “Is that why you sent her? I didn’t need to be rescued from your courtly affairs; they’re...rather simple compared to Hamal’s.”  
  
“I didn’t send her to rescue you,” Jun said, looking up at Sho’s face. He wore a small, teasing smile that made Jun smile back. “I sent her because you’ve been holding court since morning and they’ve seen your face more than I have.”  
  
“Your advisers are very enthusiastic regarding the establishment of the toll fees,” Sho said. “How do you fare with mine?”  
  
With Jun being the chief planner of the royal wedding, he had to deal with Sho’s advisers when it came to the Hamali traditions. He had to defer to their expertise, to their wisdom with every move he made.  
  
Jun scrunched his nose in response, and Sho laughed. “They think my colors are too bold yet too dark to be put alongside yours.” He eyed the reds of Sho’s robes. “They want me to choose a lighter shade or perhaps a different one.”  
  
“I hate your colors,” Sho said, and Jun quirked an eyebrow at him. Sho grinned. “Too extravagant. Combine it with gold and you’re the perfect picture of royalty. It’s too...predictable, and definitely something your people have come to expect.”  
  
“You’re telling me this now?” Jun asked, incredulous. “You wore my colors during the ascension.”  
  
“Out of respect, I assure you,” Sho said. “Besides, Mai designed my coat. I had no say in it.”  
  
Jun reached for his hand and pulled him close, until Sho stood between his legs. He brushed a kiss to Sho’s knuckles close to the only ring he wore, remembering Keiko’s advice.  
  
“I can’t change my colors,” he said. “But I wasn’t planning on draping the halls with them; I was thinking of choosing an entirely different color scheme.”  
  
Sho eyed him with amusement, his hand remaining in Jun’s grip. “Two months of planning and you still haven’t decided on the colors.”  
  
“Your advisers won’t let me,” Jun said. “Every time I decide on something, they give me another reading material regarding your traditions. I don’t hate it because knowing it is like understanding a part of you, but it’s as if once I move forward, I also take two steps back.”  
  
“The old fools are holding you back,” Sho concluded, and Jun’s eyes widened. “I call them that. You never knew?” Then he blinked. “Ah. You’ve never held court in Hamal.”  
  
That would come next month. Next month, they’d fly to Hamal and try to assimilate Jun’s court in the way Sho’s had assimilated itself in Saiph. It would be a long, tedious work to completely unite their planets, and they were just starting.  
  
“Why,” Jun asked, “do you have old fools for advisers?”  
  
“They’re the most revered scholars in Hamal,” Sho said. “I have them to remind me of traditions. I have them so I know which traditions to ignore and completely eliminate.” He smiled. “I don’t know everything and because of that, I bow to their wisdom. That doesn’t mean I have to follow it, though.”  
  
Jun laughed, pulling Sho closer. “This,” he said, “is exactly how you managed to charm my court.”  
  
“It’s not merely charm,” Sho said, and Jun saw the seriousness in his eyes. “I have exerted effort. I admit it. And I have because I wanted their favor.”  
  
“They love you already,” Jun said, nodding at Sho’s questioning look. “They do. It’s why I asked Keiko-san to fetch you. They already prefer to speak to you over me and they want you in their rooms, always. And when you are not busy, they invite you for tea and afternoon strolls.”  
  
Sho lifted a hand to tuck a lock of Jun’s hair behind his ear. “I never took you as someone who’d be jealous of his own court.”  
  
“Not jealous of the way they favor you, but of the way they take your time,” Jun said. “Tell me there are no pressing engagements left, and that the rest of the afternoon is ours.”  
  
“It’s ours,” Sho said, closer now. “Are we alone in the gardens?”  
  
Jun grinned. “I’ve had the gardens cleared.”  
  
“Good,” Sho said, and he leaned down to meet Jun in the middle. It was a simple kiss, just lips pressed together, and yet Jun felt all the stresses of the day melt away.  
  
Their solitude made Sho bolder, hand slipping behind Jun’s head to serve as leverage as he deepened the kiss. Jun allowed him to, letting the familiar heat wrap around him and soothe him in ways nothing else could.  
  
When they parted, Sho pressed his forehead against his. “I can already hear what your court is saying.”  
  
Jun always indulged him in these moments. “What?” he asked, amused.  
  
“That you asked a fearsome lieutenant to fetch me, only to have your way with me in the gardens.” Sho laughed, the sound infectious. “Do you know that they believe that we do it every night?”  
  
“Don’t we?” Jun asked, wrapping a possessive arm around Sho’s waist to have him closer.  
  
Sho pressed a finger to Jun’s lips. “Hush now. If they hear you, they’ll know they’re right. I don’t want them to think that.”  
  
“You’re never going to be predictable for any of them,” Jun assured him.  
  
“The only way I become predictable,” Sho said, “is because of you.” He shook his head. “Without you, half the things they say won’t be true.”  
  
“What else do they say?” Jun asked, though he had an idea or two. It was still entertaining to hear Sho say the words.  
  
“That you are to commission a jewelry artisan soon,” Sho said knowingly.  
  
Jun turned away, tongue against his cheek. Being a King involved being the center of everyone’s focus, but for them to have guessed even this…  
  
“I’ve been advised not to,” Jun retorted, and he could feel Sho stop. He faced Sho once more. “By someone with excellent judgment, in case you’re wondering.”  
  
He could practically see how Sho put two and two together. “Keiko,” Sho stated, eyes narrowing. “How long have you been here in the gardens?”  
  
“Long enough,” was all Jun said, enjoying the way Sho now focused on him. This, he thought, is the way it should always be.  
  
“What did you talk about?” Sho asked, and finally, he moved to sit beside Jun, though closer than Jun had expected. He delighted in the proximity, knowing the mere layers of fabric separated him from Sho.  
  
“You,” Jun said honestly. “Among other, less important things.”  
  
He took Sho’s hand in his, laid open his palm, and put the flower in it.  
  
“How many ladies and gentlemen of the court have you charmed in this manner?” Sho asked.  
  
“Many,” Jun said. “I know we skipped the courtship rites. But it’s never too late.”  
  
“Am I to understand that you’re courting the person you asked to marry?” Sho smiled. “On my planet, it’s done the other way around.”  
  
“That’s how it is here, too,” Jun said. “But I want to. I’m not asking you to reciprocate. But at least let me do this for you. As my consort.”  
  
“Is this some Saiphan custom I’ve never heard of?”  
  
Jun shook his head. “No. Nor is it a practice I’m about to turn into a law or something I hope to popularize in court, in case you’re having ideas of asking those next.”  
  
“Then why?” Sho asked, and Jun saw the lack of understanding laced with doubt. Despite all that they’d accomplished together, Sho still gave in to a few doubts because of what he’d had to endure as a child. It would always be a part of him; it molded him to the way he was now.  
  
“Because you deserve nothing less,” Jun said simply. “I’ve done this for others whose names I’ve already forgotten, and I can’t accept that I’ve done it to gain their favor but never yours. You, whose favor I value the most.”  
  
Sho wrapped his hand on the lapel of Jun’s coat and tugged him forward, silencing the rest of his words. Jun cupped Sho’s face in his hands, kissing him gently, slowly, trying to let him know that this moment they had could be stretched for as long as they needed it to be.  
  
This was theirs. There were no more plots or secrets that threatened to separate them, and their future was in their hands, to be shaped into what they wanted. They had now and the promise of tomorrow.  
  
“I thought of it,” Sho admitted between them, later when they had their fill of sharing kisses. “The idea of you courting me, traveling all the way to Sheratan to seek my hand. I thought of it when I watched Toma’s ship carry you away, imagined you coming back like that.”  
  
“Do you have any expectations?” Jun asked, watching Sho’s fingers stroke the petals of the flower. He’d give Sho anything if Sho asked.  
  
The corner of Sho’s mouth quirked. “Surprise me. I’m not the one who hates surprises.”  
  
That won Jun’s laugh, and he looked out, past the looming trees where an unobstructed view of the setting suns could be seen. “You didn’t accept a dinner invitation from anyone, did you?”  
  
“Nothing I remember, no,” Sho said. “Why?”  
  
“Then we won’t be late for anything,” Jun said, standing. He offered Sho his hand, and Sho took it, allowed himself to be guided down the steps. Jun led him to the ledge where they could watch the twin suns of Saiph disappear from the horizon to give way to the night.  
  
Below, he could hear the cessation of the day’s activities. When night came, the citadel transformed along with the sky. Nightlife indicating luxury and leisure predominated. Spacecrafts were easier to spot in the coming darkness, and they littered the skies almost as much as the constellations did.  
  
The only difference, Jun noted, was that the Saiphan sky had traces of Hamali ships now. For almost a century, the idea of a Hamali ship flying in the skies of Saiph would have meant war. But it was turning into a common occurrence now that even Jun’s people had gotten accustomed to it.  
  
It pleased him in a manner he could never hide. The alliance would last. Despite everybody’s doubts, Jun believed it would.  
  
He turned and saw Sho staring at him, something he must’ve been doing for quite a while now. He tilted his head in question, and Sho gave him a small, soft smile in return.  
  
“Is it too early if we retire to your chambers as soon as the cover of night graces us?” Sho asked.  
  
More than anything, it was an offer Jun could never refuse. “No,” Jun said, smiling back. “I’m King and you’re the Emperor; we can do as we wish.”  
  
The suns had almost disappeared completely, leaving a mixture of orange, purple, and black sky. The stars were already twinkling, and Jun recalled how Sho had asked him to teach him about the constellations before when Sho had recently recovered from his injuries.  
  
“Then let us retire early and have food delivered to our doors,” Sho suggested.  
  
Jun made a show of looking around despite knowing that only the guards in their respective stations would be present. “The court will talk once we’re out of sight.”  
  
“Let them,” Sho said, and Jun watched him tuck the flower in between the sash that held his robes together. It was a marked change in color, a stark contrast that everybody was bound to notice. The flower bore a resemblance to Jun’s colors, and one look at Sho’s sash would tell them from whom the flower was from.  
  
Sho was flaunting it. Letting them all know that their King was his, in the same way he belonged to Jun.  
  
“Every night,” Jun said with a teasing lilt to his voice, and Sho laughed.  
  
“Yes, every night,” Sho agreed. “We mustn’t shatter their expectations regarding your stamina.”  
  
“Or your vitality,” Jun said, offering Sho his arm. Sho took it, and he pressed close to Jun in a way Keiko had never done earlier. “They say you are insatiable.”  
  
“Am I?” Sho asked as they left the gardens and made their way to Jun’s chambers. “Are you sure you’re not mixing things up? I think that’s what I’ve heard them say about you, not me.”  
  
“Shun told me that some of his recruits are asking if all the Hamali are insatiable,” Jun said, and Sho laughed, his eyes crinkling at the sides. It rang in the hall and took the attention of most of the servants and the nobles littering the hallway. “What do you think that means?”  
  
“I think,” Sho said, a finger wiping at the corner of his eye, “that since I asked the servant to come back later because we were preoccupied, the rumors took a life of their own.”  
  
“Which you enjoy,” Jun pointed out.  
  
“Tremendously,” Sho admitted. “You see, in Hamal, the opinion is more...varied. Some of them thought I was celibate until I met you, and others like most of the men in my retinue in the outskirts thought I wasn’t, but only engaged occasionally out of necessity. I told you: I’m only predictable when you’re involved.”  
  
“Even your own planet knows I have your regard,” Jun said, beaming. He had nothing to prove, he knew, but he still wished to court Sho if he could. “As my planet knows you have mine.”  
  
“I told you before, didn’t I? Everyone in the galaxy knows we’re—” Sho was unable to finish his rather crude phrasing of things because Jun pressed his fingers on Sho’s lips despite being in public. Behind Sho, he could see the nobles lowering their heads out of embarrassment for having witnessed a private moment.  
  
“I will never understand you, I’m afraid,” Sho said when Jun took his hand away.  
  
“In Saiph, we don’t make it known,” Jun explained.  
  
“And yet the kings before you had a harem,” Sho pointed out.  
  
That was another pressing problem that Jun had to eliminate. His advisers had presented the matter to him as soon as he’d gotten his crown, and he’d been putting it off for as long as he could instead of dismissing it entirely out of respect to his council.  
  
“None of that now,” Jun said dismissively. “We’re here.”  
  
They entered his chambers and Jun saw that a tray of food was already inside. Sho had passed the order to a guard in the garden, and Jun was pleased that Sho’s word had been obeyed so quickly.  
  
His people were more accepting of the alliance that he’d originally thought.  
  
“We could eat later,” Jun proposed, guiding Sho to the baths. “After we bathed.”  
  
“And they say I’m the insatiable one,” Sho said, rolling his eyes, but he made no further protest when Jun held him close and began disrobing him, careful of the flower he’d tucked in his sash.  
  
“You’re not saying no,” Jun told him.  
  
“No, I’m not,” Sho affirmed. He moved to push the coat off Jun’s shoulders, and Jun allowed his clothing to be discarded in the way Sho saw fit. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve had enough of trade routes and the margins of the borders.”  
  
Jun kissed him once, a prolonged and insistent press of his mouth against Sho’s plump ones.  
  
“Insatiable,” he whispered, and his laughter reverberated against the walls along with Sho’s.  
  
\--  
  
There was a large marble tub in Jun’s chambers, structured like a small pool with hydraulics that kept the water in temperatures that were acceptable to the skin. A set of steps led to it, a square structure that occupied most of Jun’s bathroom. It was as big as the regular pools in the royal bathhouse in Sho’s palace in Sheratan.  
  
Sho was already basking in the warm, scented, slightly milky water by the time Jun entered, his head resting on one edge of the tub while the rest of him was submerged, the water rising up to his chest. Back then, in the time of Jun’s father, the servants would put petals in the water merely for decorative purposes.  
  
Jun had done away with that. The flowers, he’d ordered, could be used for something else. The garden’s yield would not be used for such.  
  
Sho had his eyes shut and neck bared, and Jun had a hard time looking away from the glistening droplets that lined his neck and jaw.  
  
“You should join me instead of just gawking there like a palace servant,” Sho said with eyes still closed. “I’m not waiting for anyone else.”  
  
“I like watching you,” Jun said, smiling. He approached, the hem of the flimsy but fine robe that he wore touching the wet marble of the bathroom floor. He strode to where Sho was and sat on the edge of the tub, a few inches away from where Sho had rested his head against.  
  
Sho turned, lifting his arms so he could lean against them as he faced Jun. It was distracting, seeing his skin shine because of the water. “Charmer. Such words you say, Your Majesty. Anyone would melt into this tub.”  
  
Jun laughed, fingers tracing the skin of Sho’s forearm. “I told you, I’m trying to court you.”  
  
“Try harder,” Sho said.  
  
Jun moved and reached for Sho’s shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He felt the hard, tense muscle underneath and kneaded, and he heard a sigh escape from Sho.  
  
“Long day?” he asked, despite knowing Sho had been holed up in the council room from morning until Keiko’s intervention.  
  
“It feels twice as long when you’re not holding court with me,” Sho said. “Must it be like this?”  
  
“I’m only absent today because I had to oversee preparations myself,” Jun said. He pressed with more force and felt the muscles give way, earning him another appreciative groan. “Have I told you that your advisors asked me to convert the measurements I’ve given them to cubits?” Sho snorted in laughter, his shoulders shaking under Jun’s touch. “Cubits! Who uses that? That’s ancient!”  
  
“They’re trying to make your life difficult, I see,” Sho said in between his laughs. “But in their defense, it’s the measurement used by the scholars in Sheratan.”  
  
“Make a law,” Jun said, and Sho’s laughter rang in the baths. “You’re the new Emperor. That just won’t do.”  
  
“I’ll be frank with you, I don’t use that unit of measurement myself,” Sho said, straightening, and Jun took his hands away. Sho cracked his neck joints, causing water to drip down from his hair, a trail of it traveling down his neck and stopping at the dip between his collarbones.  
  
It was arresting, and Jun could look nowhere else.  
  
“Jun,” Sho said softly. Jun’s eyes snapped back to his face and found him smiling. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”  
  
“I tuned out, I’m sorry,” Jun admitted. He swiped that particular droplet with his thumb and let his touch linger there, the heat of Sho’s skin transferring to his fingertip. “What were you saying?”  
  
“Come enter the bath,” Sho coaxed, and he moved towards the center of the tub. That far, Jun could no longer reach him.  
  
“In a moment,” Jun promised. Sho leveled him with a look, and he remembered the days they’d spent together in the outskirts of Hamal, back when he’d tried to win against a simple staring match. They had come far.  
  
“Still keen on being a mere observer? If you insist. What would His Majesty like me to do?” Sho asked, and Jun detected the playfulness in his tone.  
  
“Wash,” Jun said, hiking one leg over the tub’s edge so he could rest an arm on his knee and be more comfortable. “Slowly,” he added.  
  
Sho quirked an eyebrow. “Why would I when you’re here? You’re better suited to help me wash. You’ve done it before.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun said, remembering. “But I want to see you. Just...indulge a King, would you?”  
  
“As you wish, Majesty,” Sho said airily, causing Jun to laugh. He gave Jun his back and reached for the nearest vial of oil, coating his hands with it. He scrubbed his shoulders, at the parts where Jun’s hands had been earlier.  
  
Jun watched how Sho’s muscles appeared to have more mobility than earlier, how they rippled with every movement. Sho was methodical with the way he bathed, leaving no part of his upper half unscrubbed by his hands. The ridge formed by Sho’s spine made Jun want to cave in and enter the tub, but he resisted.  
  
When Sho stopped, the water was up to his waist, the surface kissing the crests of his hips. He looked over his shoulder and met Jun’s eyes.  
  
“I won’t ask a third time,” Sho said.  
  
Jun swung both legs over and untied his robe with deft hands, discarding it behind him. He waddled into the pool and pressed his chest against Sho’s back, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. He smelled a sweet, almost flowery aroma from Sho’s skin, and he fought the urge to use his teeth.  
  
“You don’t have to,” he whispered.  
  
One of Sho’s hands reached up to cup the side of his face, guiding him forward for a kiss. Jun obliged, sighing against Sho’s hot mouth. The pool was turning lukewarm, and Jun thought perhaps Sho had stolen all the heat for himself, allowed it to seep through his body so he could transfer it to Jun.  
  
Jun held him close, tilting his neck to feel more of Sho’s mouth as it moved downward, tongue flicking teasingly over his Adam’s apple. He let his hands wander, marking territory that was now familiar to him but still something he craved.  
  
He wanted. They both did, but there was gratification in taking it slow for now, knowing for certain they had all the time they needed.  
  
“You’re not soaked,” Sho breathed against his pulse. He moved away from Jun and swam to the edge of the tub, leaning his back against the cool marble. When their eyes met, it was clear he was waiting for Jun to join him.  
  
Jun did, crossing the distance that separated them to reach Sho quicker, and when he was close enough, he planted a kiss to Sho’s exposed collarbone.  
  
“We will be married in five months,” Jun said.  
  
“And any planet we don’t invite to our union will see it as an insult,” Sho said, smiling. “We’re already making enemies, barely a year into wearing our crowns.”  
  
“We plan to invite all the planets in the system,” Jun said upon recall. “Even the planets that sent suitors to you and to me before.”  
  
“And those particular planets will treat our gesture of goodwill as an insult, like me flaunting that I’ve won the hand of the King of Saiph and vice versa,” Sho told him.  
  
“Why shouldn’t I?” Jun asked stubbornly. “Flaunt it, I mean. I want them all to know.”  
  
Sho played with a wet lock of Jun’s hair, one that rested near his cheek. “Are the stories true?”  
  
Jun frowned, unaware of such a thing. “What stories?”  
  
“That you’ve never crossed the galaxy for anyone before,” Sho said.  
  
“Shun told you about this,” Jun said upon realization, which only earned him Sho’s smile. “They’re false.”  
  
He saw the flicker of emotion on Sho’s face before Sho blinked it away. “I see,” Sho said evenly.  
  
“No,” Jun said quickly, cupping Sho’s chin to turn his face to him. “I don’t mean it like that. They’re false because I have crossed the galaxy for someone.” He leaned in Sho’s space, staring into his eyes. “I did it for you. When Rina’s mother had you, I—”  
  
“Hush,” Sho said, kissing him to silence him. “I know now. I remember. You don’t have to speak of it.”  
  
“I know she hurt you,” Jun said anyway. “I haven’t forgiven her for that. She’s dead, but I can never forgive her.” He let out a breath. They had never talked about it, not even in the early days of the alliance. There was peace now and there was no use lingering in the past.  
  
But if Jun was to spend the rest of his life with this man, he should know.  
  
“When you took that ship and flew it here to make a bargain with your life, I knew you made the choice for me,” he said. “You knew I’d choose you over my planet. Something in that night gave it away.” He searched Sho’s eyes. “Was I wrong?”  
  
It would be a moment before Sho replied. “I knew. That night, I had all of you. And you showed me what you would do. I couldn’t let you.”  
  
“Why did you go here on your own?” Jun asked. Whenever he’d remember how close he’d been to losing Sho, he’d be tempted to give Sho a personal bodyguard despite the lack of need for it. “You never told me.”  
  
“She’s your sister, Jun,” Sho said quietly, and Jun had to look away. He hadn’t heard from Rina since he’d let her go. He’d worked so hard to forget he’d had a family in her.  
  
He felt Sho’s fingers on his jaw, and he looked at Sho once more.  
  
“She is,” Sho said again. “I know how much she meant to you. You would have given yourself up if it meant we’d both be safe. I couldn’t let you do that.”  
  
“Did you think I’d choose her over you?” Jun asked. “She betrayed me.”  
  
“She is still your family,” Sho said. “I thought...if I could give you back your family and your planet, I would. So I made the trade, knowing you’d keep your word and my planet would be safe.”  
  
“I knew you’d die for Hamal,” Jun acknowledged. “I’ve seen you try to do it, back in Lucida Ventris. But I never thought you’d do it for me.”  
  
Sho gave him a small smile. “You’re not the only one who’d choose the other,” he said. “You know this. That night, we both showed our hand.”  
  
“We’re not different, you and I,” Jun said, fingers tracing Sho’s cheek. “When she hurt you, I wanted to kill her. I tore down the prison tower because it reminded me of how she almost took you from me. Sometimes, I dream of it.” He saw the surprise on Sho’s face; he’d never spoken of this before. “I dream of flying that ship and hearing your screams and arriving too late. It’s been months, and yet, sometimes…”  
  
He felt Sho’s arms slipping around his neck to hold him close, and Jun took his next breath against Sho’s pulse. “It haunts me to this day,” he admitted. “Now that I’m King, I fear the day will come when they’ll ask me to choose again between my planet and you, and what kind of King would I be if I don’t put my people first?”  
  
“You’ll never have to choose,” Sho promised him, and Jun wrapped both arms around him. “The alliance will last. We will make it last. I will not rule without you by my side. Do you doubt me?”  
  
“No, I doubt myself,” Jun admitted. He could only say such things in front of Sho. Once he went out of these rooms, he had to be a King. But inside them, he only had to be who he was. “I only became King because Rina abdicated.”  
  
“I know all about doubt,” Sho said, and Jun pulled back to see his face. “My life was full of it. I doubted I could live long enough to be declared the heir despite knowing it was my birthright. I doubted I could thwart those who conspired against my mother and I. Even now, I doubt. Am I worthy of this? All my life, I’ve been told I’m not worth anything. Sometimes I look at you and I want to ask myself: have I finally earned this after everything?”  
  
Jun kissed him, trying to let him know without using his words. He didn’t know if he could convey the gravity of what he felt. But for Sho, he had to try.  
  
“I came to know you in Denebia,” he whispered between them. “And in Denebia, I saw a clever, cunning man who charmed an entire court of women with only a few words. But when we left the court and were in the room they had given us, I saw a brave man. Someone who’d gladly put his life on the line to ensure a better future for his planet. That night, I saw an Emperor. And in my heart, I hoped to be like him one day.” He cupped Sho’s face. “You’re the best man I know. If anyone’s not worthy, it’s me of you.”  
  
“When you saved my life in Sheratan, I repaid you by ruining your memory of your father,” Sho said. Jun shook his head in dismissal, but Sho said, “I know what I did. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I didn’t know you then. But after that, I’ve come to know you. You were one man in a planet inhabited by those who hated your kind, but you persevered. You fought at every turn, even against me, and wouldn’t back down even when told to.” Sho chuckled. “You were a force of nature. Still are, and being with you makes me feel like I can do anything. You have no idea how it feels to have you by my side.”  
  
“I think I do,” Jun said, taking one of Sho’s hands. “I feel it too. You make me believe that together, we can accomplish something neither of us can do on our own.”  
  
Sho’s grip shifted, and he brought Jun’s hand to press a kiss to Jun’s knuckles. “I meant what I said. I will not rule without you.”  
  
“Nor will I,” Jun said. “I need you. I never really made you believe otherwise.”  
  
“No you haven’t,” Sho affirmed. His touch moved, fingertips gliding over Jun’s exposed torso, palm stopping where Jun’s heart was. “I like it here. With you.”  
  
Jun took the initiative, leaning forward so he could kiss Sho. Doing so had Sho trapped between him and the tub’s edge, and Jun braced himself by planting his hands on the marble while Sho’s arms coiled around his neck to draw him closer.  
  
No matter how many times they’d indulged in one another, it never felt enough. Being with Sho was akin to completing a part of him, a part he never knew he’d lost and had been longing for. The skin he touched no longer felt foreign, but an extension of him he could never do without. The taste of Sho was so familiar and yet, he was never able to satisfy his craving for it.  
  
Each moment they had left him wanting more, the desire never fully sated.  
  
The way Sho kissed him told him it was mutual. Sho kissed like he searched for something, perhaps a piece of him that he’d given Jun and wanted back. Jun wasn’t certain, but he liked it when Sho met him eagerly. It was their own battlefield, always ending in a draw, but never feeling like a loss. Surrender was no longer a foreign concept to Jun; he readily gave all he had and all he was, and Sho reciprocated, sometimes twofold.  
  
Jun rested his forehead against Sho’s in an attempt to catch his breath. “You feel like home. On a planet full of women and sand, you already felt like that. On a planet with green seas and gray skies, you felt like that too. And in here. It’s not where I am; it’s who I am with.”  
  
Back in Otonoha, it had startled him at first—the way they fit. In a planet fifty-seven light years away, it had been one of the few things that made sense. Inevitable, he’d told Shun. If Sho was a star, he was simply one of those celestial bodies affected by its gravity.  
  
Looking back, there had been no other way to fall, but down.  
  
“When we took Satoshi-kun’s speeder,” Sho whispered in between kisses, “and saw the old mining station and its leftover rail tracks and pillars and rusty machinery, I knew then. I couldn’t believe it at first.” His soft laugh was done over Jun’s mouth.  
  
“What was it?” Jun asked. “It couldn’t have been my complete disregard for your authority. You hated that.”  
  
“You were arrogant,” Sho said. “When we first met, do you remember the first words you said to me?”  
  
“‘Which part?’” Jun said, trying to emulate the same tone he had back then. It had been the beginning of winter in Hamal; the solstice had begun sooner than they’d anticipated. He could remember the cold and harsh terrain, and his colder, harsher words.  
  
“I found you disrespectful and self-absorbed,” Sho said. “Selfish, ungrateful, and absolutely defiant.”  
  
Jun pulled away and took a step back, hands dislodging Sho’s arms from his neck. He took Sho’s hands and guided them both to the center of the pool and pressed close.  
  
“Yes,” he said, combing back Sho’s wet mane, “tell me more of my charming personality.”  
  
“Overconfident, pampered, impetuous prince,” Sho told him, but he was smiling. “I thought if our planets had been friends, I still wouldn’t have liked you.”  
  
“Didn’t Hamal use to practice arranged marriages before your ancestor eloped with mine?” Jun asked, recalling the history his old tutors had once recited to him.  
  
“We did, yes,” Sho said. “Suppose we did that if Hamal and Saiph had a stalemate instead of being at the brink of war, you wouldn’t have agreed to it.”  
  
“You’d be married to Rina, not to me,” Jun said. It was the truth. In this hypothetical scenario that they had created, they wouldn’t be together. “She could never abdicate if she was promised to you; your people would take that as a slight.”  
  
“You see?” Sho asked, his knuckles stroking Jun’s cheekbone. “Even if our planets were friends, we’d never be together. It couldn’t have happened any other way.”  
  
“And if I stole the Emperor Apparent for myself, it’d be a repeat of history,” Jun said.  
  
“Assuming, of course, that you still felt the same towards me,” Sho pointed out.  
  
“You think I wouldn’t?” Jun asked, surprised.  
  
Sho looked down, but he kept his palms flat on Jun’s chest while Jun held him by the waist. The water churned around them because of the jets, but aside from the constant bubbling, Jun couldn’t hear a thing. It was as if this space existed for the two of them.  
  
“I think you would be too proper to attempt such a thing,” Sho said finally.  
  
“That’s the answer to the question I didn’t ask,” Jun told him, seeing the deliberate evasion. He tipped Sho’s face upwards so their eyes would meet. “You think that if Saiph and Hamal had good relations and we met as we are—Prince and Emperor Apparent—I wouldn’t have fallen for you?”  
  
“I would have to try hard to win your affection, I think,” Sho confessed, eyes darting away from Jun’s. “Which I wouldn’t do for anyone, so no. I don’t think so.”  
  
“That’s funny,” Jun said, “I always imagined it as me trying hard to impress you when all your time would be devoted to my sister and not to me.”  
  
“They would never have given you to me,” Sho said, and he sounded so convinced of it. “Even if I asked. Even if I gave up the lands in my name as dowry, they wouldn’t. They would have told me to be grateful to have been given the Crown Princess, and that the disadvantage is not on my side but on Saiph’s. It would be Hamal’s way of insulting your planet.”  
  
“Is that what you think?” Jun asked, truly wanting to know. “Right now, in this engagement—what we have between us—do you think I am at a disadvantage for having you?” His heart broke for Sho, at the reality that all the torment he’d received as a child still haunted him even now. “Look at me.”  
  
Sho did, but not without difficulty.  
  
“I can’t fight ghosts,” he admitted. “It hurts when I know they still found a way to follow you. I’ve helped you defeat them, even killed some of them for you, but they found a way despite that. I wish your burden is not your own, but I don’t know what else I can do.” He took Sho’s hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t know how long you carried these. Perhaps longer than those that marked your body. But on your word, I will try.”  
  
Sho looked at him with unguarded affection and perhaps a hint of amusement, and he broke free from Jun’s grip to have his hands cup Jun’s face.  
  
“For all the hatred and anger you have for your sister’s mother, I only have gratitude for her,” Sho said, making Jun blink in surprise.  
  
“Gratitude?” he asked, voice low. She’d hurt Sho, made him stay in the infirmary for weeks.  
  
Sho, however, nodded. “Her biggest insult to my name became the best gift I could ever have. She gave you to me.” His touch shifted, fingers dancing across Jun’s jaw. “On the day of our union, I will swear it in front of all the planets present. But now I’ll swear it to you: I’ll strive to be worthy of you. I’ll—why are you laughing?”  
  
Jun couldn’t help himself. “You asked earlier in the gardens what promises I made and with whom,” he said. “Do you remember?”  
  
“Vividly; you’re the only one who would defy me like that,” Sho said. “That question went unanswered.”  
  
“Not anymore,” Jun said. “I spoke to your lieutenant. And I gave her the same oath you’re making now.” He kissed Sho once, twice. “Two halves of a whole.”  
  
“You made the oath to Keiko and not to me?” Sho asked.  
  
“I’m terrified of her, as you know,” Jun said, earning him Sho’s quiet chuckle. “If something happens to you, if at one point I made you sad, she’ll have my throat. Nevermind that I am a King.”  
  
Sho kissed him, and when he drew back, he rested his cheek against Jun’s shoulder. “I knew when you took Satoshi-kun’s speeder to look for me. I knew in that hill, when you handed over everything to me, including your life. You, the only Saiphan on my planet, the enemy of my people. But I knew. I knew. You asked me what had caused it. I’d say you did.”  
  
We could stay here forever, Jun thought indulgently, just like this. We could do that now, and nothing else needed to exist.  
  
He nosed Sho’s hair, the scent heightened because of the water. For a moment they stood there, wrapped around each other. No one could touch them now. Not even Sho’s ghosts. Jun would fend them off and keep them away just to protect this space.  
  
“Read to me,” Sho said suddenly, lifting his head.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Read to me,” Sho repeated. “In Hamal, I read for you at your request.”  
  
Those were the fondest memories Jun had had in Sho’s camp. “What would you like for me to read?”  
  
“Your favorites,” Sho said, and he stepped back but reached for Jun’s hand, tugging him as he moved to leave the tub. “Show me what it would’ve been like if the Emperor Apparent had time for the Prince.”  
  
Jun laughed and squeezed Sho’s hand in his, and together they made their way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied torture is present in certain parts of this thing. Please proceed with caution.

“You chose him; that’s why you’re here. You chose the son of the same king who made your people suffer over the billions of Hamali residing on your planet. Him instead of your people.”  
  
“He will make things right,” Sho says in confidence. “He will be a better king than his father.”  
  
“He is his father’s son,” she tells him. “Right now, Rina is on his way to him thanks to you. Do you think she’ll do what you hope for and convince him to stay behind and wait it out?” Sho suddenly feels cold, and she smiles, wide and deceivingly warm. “Rina is my daughter.”  
  
“Whom you threw into a cell,” Sho points out, looking at his surroundings. Unrefined ore from floor to ceiling. No means of communication with the outside world. “In my planet, parents don’t harm their children.”  
  
“But family harms their own all the same,” she says. “You would know. How many scars do you have by now? How many almost did the job?” She smiles when Sho doesn’t answer. “I hope you can sustain more. I want to see you suffer.”  
  
“Why do you hate us so much?” Sho asks. At this point, it’s just curiosity. He knows what‘s coming. He’ll likely die here. He accepted that the moment he’d followed Jun to his rooms. It’s a memory he now keeps close to his heart, one of the few ones he has left.  
  
He and Jun will never meet again.  
  
“I don’t hate you,” she says, and it sounds like the truth. “Not you. You are simply the perfect instrument at present.”  
  
“You hate him,” Sho concludes. “Do you think it’ll hurt him when he sees what you’re about to do to me? It won’t matter. He’s stronger than you think. Hurting me won’t make you reach him.”  
  
“We’ll see,” is the last thing she says, full of airy confidence that mirrored Sho’s earlier, and Sho shuts his eyes.  
  
He thinks of a bright, blue sky—the sweet promise of a future that’ll never be his.  
  
The pain starts.  
  
\--  
  
Watching Jun sleep had become a morning routine.  
  
The twin suns of Saiph were not yet claiming the horizon, the sky still dark and dotted with twinkling stars. Only six of the eight moons remained; the other two had either descended earlier than their siblings or had been obscured by the cover of clouds. Either way, the ones left provided enough illumination, moonlight seeping through the opened archway of the balcony that led to their chambers, reaching as far as the bed.  
  
Like this, bathed in an almost ethereal glow, Jun looked like someone from the myths Sho had read as a child. A hero of his own tragedy, except everything ended well for him by the grace of the gods.  
  
But there were no gods to thank, to light incense for and offer gifts to. They had shaped their own future by tying their fates together, and having Jun like this—so soft and vulnerable that it was quite an arresting sight—was one of the rewards Sho had secured for himself.  
  
A shift caused the faint rustling of the sheets. Jun was beautiful—all sharp, prominent lines marked by tiny imperfections that only made him more attractive. Sho would never find immunity to this and he liked to think he wouldn’t wish to. Where there had been a hard line of concentration was now a calmness: it wasn’t that Sho had hardly seen Jun’s striking features relaxed; with the alliance withstanding, he had the opportunity to see that look on Jun more often.  
  
But seeing him so at peace, dozing away since no one could touch him had its own charm.  
  
No one except Sho.  
  
Jun’s breaths were even, and the steady rise and fall of his chest warranted a moment of uninterrupted observation. Eyes trailing upward, Jun’s hair was a patch of inky black against the soft pillow, half obscuring his eyes. Sho pushed the strands back, enough to witness a slight crease in the peaceful expression. He withdrew and waited as Jun turned to his side to pillow his head over a flexed arm, the firm muscle now an enticing curve.  
  
“Put your hand back,” Jun murmured groggily against his own skin.  
  
Sho did, brushing away some of Jun’s hair before setting his hand on Jun’s cheek, their warmth mingling. His hand had to feel rough, calloused and nothing like an Emperor’s. And yet it soothed Jun, his haziness evident. He was yet to emerge fully from his sleep.  
  
“You’re smiling,” Sho noted. “Why?”  
  
The flutter of Jun’s eyelashes was slow as if time had been suspended. Perhaps it was; if the world moved around them, Sho didn’t notice.  
  
“I dreamt of you,” Jun said. He turned his face to drop a kiss to Sho’s wrist, causing his pulse to quicken.  
  
“What did you dream of?” Sho asked. Gone were the nightmares, the horrors they had escaped and survived together. Sometimes though, their dreams were still plagued by unpleasant memories.  
  
But those instances were becoming fewer in number, and Sho liked to believe they’d continue to do so.  
  
“Let’s take a speeder,” Jun said, and he pushed himself up to his elbows, his next breath taken in Sho’s space. “Come with me, Your Majesty. Away from here.”  
  
“Tempting,” Sho said. “You’d have us shirk our duties for the day.”  
  
“There is a place beyond the citadel gates, close to the cliffs. You’ve only been there once, but not at the exact place I wanted to show you. I want to take you there now,” Jun whispered against his jaw, leaving ticklish, fleeting touches.  
  
Anyone would give in to these methods of persuasion, Sho thought. The joint council of Saiph and Hamal had tried to devise ways to convince him and Jun of their reasonings and arguments during council meetings, but the best weapon was right here.  
  
“Why?” he asked. He knew the place. Jun had had a memorial made there for his family: an obelisk erected in an isolated space overlooking the sea and had a full view of the night sky. Sho had been there when Jun had personally overseen the construction, had stood beside Jun as Jun had said the prayers of his people upon its completion.  
  
Hamal sent the ashes of the dead to be one with the stars, while Saiph had theirs either interred or scattered in their seas. Jun had his father’s ashes retrieved and cast them to the seas, believing that the old king could come back and help reshape the land he’d once walked on.  
  
“You’ll see,” Jun said, and he sat up, sheets bunched around his waist. “It’s not yet morning. They won’t notice that we’re gone if we leave now.”  
  
“We cannot reach that place in a speeder,” Sho reasoned. “The palace gates leading to the edges of the citadel won’t open for us. Unless we take the Royal Army with us.”  
  
“There is another way,” Jun said, smiling in a conspiratorial manner, and he looked young, giddy with excitement. “We won’t use those gates.”  
  
“Ah,” Sho said, understanding. “You want us to use the main gates.” He eyed Jun and inevitably found himself smiling. “To pretend that we’re servants on our way to the markets.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun said. “They will never let us leave if we go as ourselves.”  
  
“And cause a ruckus if we are discovered either way,” Sho continued, shaking his head. “This is risky.”  
  
“Going to Denebia had been a risk and yet you did it,” Jun pointed out. He reached for Sho’s hand and kissed his palm. “Let’s go. We’ll put on cloaks, take the main road, and go to the cliffs. I want to show you something.”  
  
“And it cannot wait. Of course,” Sho said. “Yes. Yes, you imbecile, you know I’d say yes anyway, stop smiling like that.”  
  
Jun kissed his neck, deftly avoiding his mouth when he turned, and moved to leave the bed. “We must hurry,” Jun said, expression bright. He wasn’t usually this energetic at this hour, but struck with an ill-advised idea and he became another person entirely.  
  
He helped Sho up and led him to the closet, the two of them selecting outfits for one another. Jun was the meticulous one when it came to clothing; Sho was more interested in the lack of it once they’d entered Jun’s chambers.  
  
They were scheduled to leave Saiph tonight and fly to Hamal to make arrangements. The first half of cementing their empire, the alliance—they had accomplished it in five months. With Sho paving the way for Jun’s return to his planet since before Jun’s ascension, it should take fewer months than it had on Saiph.  
  
After all, Hamal was where the alliance had been formed.  
  
“That’s too loose on you,” Jun said, shaking his head at Sho’s choice of garments. He’d dressed down and had forsaken the traditional Hamali garb of long, elegant robes. When he turned to the mirror, he found an ordinary Saiphan citizen staring back, except he had unmistakable Hamali features.  
  
“This is the current fashion of your people,” he pointed out. The breeches hugged his thighs but didn’t restrict movement, and he had a feeling Jun’s complaint wasn’t directed to them. He pinched the edge of the shirt he wore—one of Jun’s. “This is only loose on me because you’re bigger than I am.”  
  
“I’ve had clothes made for you,” Jun said, frowning. For someone who’d instigated this sudden trip, he was still half-naked, the planes of his chest exposed and almost tempting Sho. “Where are they?”  
  
“They’re the clothes of a King,” Sho said, pulling an old cloak from the closet and upon examination, finding it suitable. He put it on and began pulling on his boots. “Will you stop fussing about what I’m wearing; we’re not holding court until the suns are up.”  
  
Jun said nothing, pulling a shirt over his head which fit him rather nicely, revealing curves of the toned body underneath. Sho quirked an eyebrow, wondering if Jun was trying to put on a show.  
  
He decided to leave Jun and wait by the bed, the sole of his boot tapping impatiently against the flooring.  
  
“I’m done, I’m done,” Jun was saying, a cloak now thrown over his shoulders, boots fastened up to his knees. He was smiling, and he took Sho’s hand and tugged him to where the secret door was—one of the many openings to the labyrinthine passageways in the Saiphan palace.  
  
“Do you often sneak out like this?” Sho asked, and the idea was easy enough to imagine. “Of course you did. What a spoiled prince you were.”  
  
“When I turned twenty, I had to find another way to get to my spaceship since my father had guards posted on every known entrance and exit of these passageways,” Jun said.  
  
Sho frowned as he trudged after Jun, hand still in Jun’s firm grip. “Ah,” he said when it occurred to him. “You commissioned the help of your Captain.”  
  
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re simply too clever,” Jun said, “or you just know me that you can easily tell.”  
  
“One of us has to be clever,” Sho said teasingly, laughing when Jun squeezed his hand. “I can imagine it. You asking Shun to clear a section for the night and appearing there in the opportune moment. He told me he’d accompanied you to some of those trips, gallivanting around the galaxy.”  
  
“We should do that,” Jun said, and they reached their destination. There was an empty courtyard at the back of the Saiphan palace, intended at first as landing sites for different spacecraft delegations. Across it and hidden from view because of the cover of the night, was the speeder docking area, intended for courtiers and nobles.  
  
“And sneak out again? No,” Sho said as they rounded up the courtyard to avoid detection. “This is risky enough as it is.”  
  
“Not now,” Jun clarified, and Sho could hear the smile in his voice. “After. When we’re married.”  
  
They reached the dock, and Sho watched Jun take his pick. “This is stealing,” he said after a moment.  
  
“Borrowing,” Jun said. “We’ll return it in perfect condition. They won’t even know it’s gone.” He faced Sho when he seemed to have found one, throwing a leg over the seat and climbing, the speeder bearing his weight. “And I mean it. We should do that. Visit different star systems. See other worlds.”  
  
He offered Sho his hand, and Sho took it, climbing aboard. He threw the hood of the cloak over his head, hands clasping together in Jun’s middle when he finally settled. “That’ll cause a fuss. Is there a leisure planetoid big enough to accommodate the spaceships from our joined households? I think not.”  
  
“Just the two of us,” Jun said, and the speeder gave a low hum before Jun’s hand hovered on the accelerator. “Just like this. We can go see the universe.”  
  
“How tempting,” Sho admitted, and he pressed close, just as Jun took them to the main gates, to follow the main road and see the cliffs.  
  
\--  
  
He learns how to count.  
  
He spaces his breathing evenly, letting only a wince escape from him. It’s been going for hours now—he lost track of time when they stepped on his shoulder.  
  
He tries to move said shoulder and a flare of pain shoots up that makes his eyes water. Broken, and likely useless if he has to defend himself. His vision is beginning to blur, and sound seems to travel slower underground. He’s never been this cold in Hamal, the chill reaching his bones.  
  
“Mend the shoulder,” she says, and Sho turns his head to the direction of her voice. She looks like the queen she claims to be. “We don’t want that to incapacitate him.”  
  
He breathes carefully, through his nostrils now crusting with caked blood. Everything smells metallic at this point, reminding him of swords and knives: one that nearly killed him in his youth, the other drawn on a shadowy hill bathed in moonlight.  
  
“If you think I was here to kill you, strike,” he said.  
  
Sho remembers the grip he had on the saber and how he’d shut off the ignition, his hand stilling.  
  
They call for a medic who begins to tend to his shoulder, a little roughly than what Sho’s accustomed to. The osteogenesis is hasty and inadequate, just enough to stimulate bone growth over the succeeding minutes.  
  
They fix it to break it again. Sho has to marvel at the technique; he’s bound to feel the recurring pain for the upcoming hours.  
  
If he is lucky, he will develop a tolerance for it. He’s come to learn that early on in his life.  
  
It takes a few seconds before they start again, but when they do, they don’t hold back. The pain sears and tears through flesh to break more bones, and Sho grits his teeth to bear it all.  
  
You’ve always been meant to kill me, he thinks, willing himself not to scream. Just not at that time.  
  
\--  
  
By the time they reached the cliffs, only two of Saiph’s moons remained in the sky. It would be minutes before dawn and Sho could only imagine at the panic they’d cause once the servants discover them missing. They hadn’t even brought their communicators with them.  
  
Unlike Hamal’s tall cliffs made of sedimentary rock, Saiph’s was a product of volcanic ash. And yet, in between the cracks had been outgrowths of small but colorful flowers, of a touch of green that would undoubtedly cover the surface given a couple more years.  
  
When Sho looked to his right, he saw the obelisk. It faced the horizon, its pointed tip aligned with the brightest star in the night sky. When the suns crested the sea, the marble would catch light and its surface would shine. A fitting phenomenon for those it served to commemorate.  
  
Jun came to stand beside him, their cloaks billowing in the wind. He wasn’t looking at the obelisk. Rather, he was facing the sky, and when his gaze met Sho’s, he smiled.  
  
“It’s coming now, look,” Jun said.  
  
And Sho turned, just as the fire rained from the sky, piercing through the fading black in iridescent hues. He stood unblinking as thousands of them seemed to fall at the same time, disappearing before his eyes could follow where their trails ended.  
  
The stars overhead glittered, adding to the breathtaking effect of the Saiphan sky being a canvas to something beautiful.  
  
“It’s a meteor storm,” Jun said from behind him, and Sho felt his arms slipping around his waist, not too different from how he’d held on to Jun before they’d gotten here.  
  
“This is the first time I’ve seen one,” Sho admitted, mesmerized. “We...we never get them in Hamal, especially not in Sheratan.”  
  
“They happen in specific months,” Jun said. “They’re a common occurrence in Saiph that the astronomers can predict when they’ll happen. This was predicted, but I ordered everyone not to tell you a thing.”  
  
An abuse of power, but one Sho didn’t mind. He sank in Jun’s embrace, overwhelmed. It was a quiet night, and here they were: two rulers of planets who’d long been enemies, watching thousands of meteors color the Saiphan sky. Some of them entered the planet’s atmosphere, leaving a more colorful trail before their fire gave out and vanished.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” he said sincerely, unable to keep himself from smiling. If this was Jun’s way of courtship, then he’d won against anyone who’d once sought Sho’s hand. Sho had been the recipient of affection, lavish gifts of silks and robes, even jewelry. Accomplishments in tournaments had been offered to him, a display of might and regard.  
  
But only Jun had given him the sky.  
  
The spectacle ended when the two remaining moons gave way to the twin suns, a striking orange against an otherwise pale sky. Night was fading, and Sho could hear the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs.  
  
“Tell me what happened to the ashes thrown in the seas,” he said.  
  
“They become one with the planet,” Jun explained. “At least, that’s what we believe in. The planet’s constantly changing—tectonic plates shifting, giving rise to new islands, volcanoes erupting and forming additional land mass. We believe that by scattering the ashes of our people to the sea, we let them be a part of what makes the planet. So every blade of grass, every flower, every rock and grain of sand—we believe it’s them. They stay with us even after they’re gone.”  
  
“Do you think she left your father’s ashes for you to scatter them?” he asked after a moment.  
  
“I—” Jun paused, and even without seeing, Sho could sense his uncertainty. “I don’t know. I never got to ask. I was the one who threw my mother’s ashes to the sea. But for my father...I don’t know.”  
  
“I think she did it for you,” Sho said quietly. “She would’ve wanted to honor him in the same way you would’ve. He was her father, too.”  
  
After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, and he found Jun staring at him.  
  
Jun had a small frown on his face. “Why did you ask all of a sudden?”  
  
“I wanted to ask them for your hand,” Sho said honestly. “But I don’t know how. They’re everywhere, you said. So they already know what I intend.”  
  
The wind blew, cool against Sho’s skin, and a flock of birds flew overhead. The suns rose steadily, casting shadows behind them: hardly recognizable and overlapping figures. He couldn’t tell where he began and where Jun did.  
  
“You’ve looked into my culture,” Jun said, not at all displeased.  
  
Sho moved away to stand by his side, looking out. He hoped Jun’s mother and father could hear them at this moment. “Do you think they would’ve given you to me?”  
  
The past stretched in the space between them, unaddressed. If Jun remained the Crown Prince and had inherited the throne as planned, his father still alive, it was still unlikely. They would’ve attacked Hamal, not forge an alliance with them.  
  
They would have met as enemies, facing one another for the first time on the opposite sides of the battlefield.  
  
“They would,” Jun said. “I’m not being indulgent or being hopeful. I know they would. And that’s because you would have made them love you. You of all people would have found a way how despite my father’s reservations regarding the Hamali.”  
  
Jun faced him, taking his hand. Sho blinked in question, and Jun dug inside the pocket of his trousers for a small pouch, the content of which he allowed to drop in Sho’s open palm.  
  
It was made of silver, a small loop adorned by tiny, pinpoint diamonds that looked like twinkling stars. Simple, yet elegant, and certainly eye-catching.  
  
“I’ve been told not to present you with a ring,” Jun said, and Sho remembered. “The Hamali present rings to their intended. But you wouldn’t have worn it had I given you one.” Their eyes met. “Will you wear this one for me?”  
  
It was an earring, small and glittering in Sho’s palm.  
  
Instead of replying, Sho opened the catch of the silver loop, lifted it to his left earlobe, and fixed it there. He hadn’t worn an earring in nearly a decade. But if he was to wear any jewelry gifted by Jun, he’d gladly show off this one.  
  
He tilted his head in expectation, smiling at the way Jun looked at him. Clearly, Jun hadn’t expected how he’d look like wearing it. He must’ve imagined it, but his imagination likely proved to be inadequate.  
  
“I will return to my own planet wearing your gift,” he said later, when they made their way to the speeder. “You want the rumor mill to never run out of things to talk about.”  
  
“They will talk once we return to the palace,” Jun said, but before he could climb on the speeder, Sho stopped him.  
  
“Let me drive,” he said, smiling. Jun’s eyes inevitably gravitated to his ear, and he climbed on the speeder and offered Jun his hand.  
  
Jun took it, and he had his arms around Sho by the time it dawned on him.  
  
“You know how much it affects me,” Jun said.  
  
Sho laughed. “Of course. In fact, I already know we’ll be late to court.”  
  
“Then let’s hurry home,” Jun said, teeth catching on his earlobe and on the earring, his lips warming the metal as he sucked on it, “Your Majesty.”  
  
Sho tried not to squirm and he let the engine roar to life, the speeder taking them back to the citadel.  
  
\--  
  
An emperor must sow seeds and cultivate them for fruitful yields. Sho learned that early in his training as the Emperor Apparent, but always thought there’s a rather grim counterpart to the lesson.  
  
With each seed sown sprouts a weed that needs to be taken out.  
  
The allies he gains doubles the enemies he makes. He’s had family harm him in the wee hours of the morning, has long learned how to sleep with a weapon nearby. His life remains as his only bargaining chip, a priceless commodity depending on the circumstance.  
  
It occurs to him that this is his final bargain, his chest heaving with each breath. He cannot move. His limbs feel like lead, holding him down. He can hardly feel his legs. He feels like a shell, encasing an existence of someone who’s still fighting despite the odds.  
  
Sho knows he’s always been stubborn, always defiant. He likes proving people wrong.  
  
He catches words like “ships” and “Hamali” and focuses on whoever’s speaking. There are ships approaching. He can hardly see; the bruising makes it difficult to accurately locate the source of sounds. His hearing has been impaired for hours now.  
  
“He comes,” she says, and it takes a beat for Sho to understand. He looks at her, sees her through a slit that his eyelids can barely make.  
  
“You lie,” he croaks through chapped, wounded lips. The cuts sting when his saliva touches them, but the pain is negligible compared to the fear gripping in Sho’s heart. “He’s assembling the army to fight you.”  
  
“No, he’s come,” she says, patient. “I imagine that must be simultaneously unbelievable and confounding; you’ve had no savior since your father died.”  
  
“Did you have a hand in that, too?” he asks, trying his best to sit up. In the off-chance that she speaks the truth, Jun must not see him like this. He must be on his feet.  
  
“No, that was unfortunately not part of my machinations,” she says. “Does that disappoint you?”  
  
“Hardly,” Sho says. He’s at least accomplished sitting up, back resting on rough, unpolished ore. The jagged edges dig against his back and elicit spikes of pain. “Nothing you do will surprise me anymore. I’ve seen it all in my stay here.”  
  
“My hospitality, you mean,” she says, and Sho sees her leave. “Get him back to the ground where he belongs. The false king is coming for him. Let’s make him see what his claim has accomplished.”  
  
Hands drag Sho back to the floor, his face forced to make contact with enforced steel. He tastes blood and coughs, nearly choking on it. The red smears the ground and it’s all he sees.  
  
Don’t look, he thinks fiercely. It’s the only wish he can make.  
  
Despite his hopes, he’s always known. In an unfamiliar city, an unknown terrain, and now across the galaxy.  
  
Jun will always find him.  
  
\--  
  
The servants were performing their duties when they made it back, and they crept together to Jun’s chambers with a couple more minutes to spare before the attendant knocked for their morning orders.  
  
Sho was barely out of his cloak when Jun grabbed him, and this was a dance they’d done many times that it was no longer a surprise, yet still something Sho burned for. Jun’s mouth was hot, pliant, and addicting, his touch territorial when they slipped inside Sho’s shirt.  
  
Jun was able to guide them to the bed, Sho sitting on the edge of it and Jun standing between his spread legs. They kissed, this time slower and longer. It reminded Sho of the first time they’d given in to one another, in his own spaceship parked in the keep that guarded the land under his name. Everything in that night had belonged to him—Jun included.  
  
Craning his neck as Jun supported his nape, Sho went for more, opening for Jun’s tongue, meeting him in the middle.  
  
They pulled back when they heard a pointed cough from the doorway, and Sho threw his head back in laughter when he saw Ohno and Shun, the latter shaking his head.  
  
More footsteps, and Keiko appeared as well.  
  
“We’ve been informed by the King’s servants that the King of Saiph and the Emperor of Hamal have gone missing,” Ohno said, and he had the decency to look somewhere else. Keiko was only giving them an unamused look. Shun had nothing but judgment, which he directed to Jun alone.  
  
Jun was passing a hand over his face. He never liked being interrupted. Sho saw him lick his lips.  
  
“Have you sent scouts?” Jun asked calmly, though that had to be taking effort. His other hand was still on Sho’s nape.  
  
“We have,” Shun said this time, followed by another shake of the head.  
  
“Call them back,” Sho said. “Tell them we’ve been found.”  
  
“Did you leave the palace?” Keiko asked, and she didn’t give Sho time to respond. “Majesty. How many times must I remind you—”  
  
“We didn’t,” Sho said, and he saw Jun smile, hidden by the back of his hand. “We never left. We were right here the entire time.”  
  
“The servants reported that you hadn’t replied to any of their queries and when they checked, the chambers were empty,” Ohno said with narrowed eyes.  
  
“We shared a bath,” Jun said, and Sho laughed at how preposterous they must sound. The three heads of their security all knew the truth, but they couldn’t refute them. “We were in the baths when they checked. They weren’t mistaken about our chambers being empty then.”  
  
“Why are you wearing riding boots?” Keiko asked, casting a pointed look at their feet, her gaze focusing on Sho’s face after.  
  
“It’s cold,” Sho said, matching her glare. She then took notice of his earring—her gaze transferring to Jun before moving back to Sho. “And perhaps we do intend to go riding, after.”  
  
To his surprise, Keiko smiled. “Our sincerest apologies then, Imperial Majesty, Your Majesty,” she inclined her head, causing Ohno and Shun to do the same. When they straightened, Ohno was grinning as well.  
  
“We’ll call off the search,” Shun said with a nod of finality.  
  
“Thank you. You’re dismissed,” Jun said, and the door finally shut.  
  
“If I had known it’d only take an earring to shake Keiko and Ohno off,” Sho said, “I would’ve worn one ages ago.”  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jun said, and Sho felt the insistent press of Jun’s arm on the back of his neck. “I’m glad you’re wearing this for me.”  
  
When Sho turned his face, Jun was there, and they resumed where they’d left off. Sho reached up, fisting at Jun’s cloak to tug him down and have him closer, and Jun lightly nipped at his bottom lip.  
  
“Tell me we have time,” Jun said when he pulled back, but he didn’t keep away. He nudged Sho, and Sho lay on the bed, looking up at the man who was the King of this planet but looked nothing like it at present. In here, there was no Saiphan king. There was only Jun, and Sho wanted him closer.  
  
“Given today’s events and our supposed disappearance, we can be late today, I think,” Sho said. Knowing Ohno, he’d tell the court that the King and Emperor were safe and preoccupied at present. Nobody would dare knock on that door.  
  
Sho raised his leg between them, gesturing at Jun. “Attend me.”  
  
“As a servant would an Emperor?” Jun asked, his hand already cupping Sho’s heel.  
  
“As the High Consort to the Emperor would,” Sho said, and Jun pulled the boot off his foot, followed by the other. Jun hurriedly removed his own boots, and he situated himself on top of Sho, looming over him with palms on either side of Sho’s head.  
  
Jun swooped down, and they kissed without urgency nor haste. It felt like an offering, reciprocated and appreciated. Jun was slow as he unfastened his cloak and unlaced his shirt, revealing the bulk of his body that Sho loved to touch. He let his hands roam freely, memorizing, feeling, and enjoying the firm muscle that yielded under his fingertips.  
  
He knew Jun was training, keeping his body toned as he sparred regularly with the members of the Royal Army. While Jun was still unable to best Ohno or Shun, he was still a formidable fighter, an asset on the battlefield had he been a soldier.  
  
He’d first seen what Jun had been hiding underneath when Jun had stood on the floor with Keiko. It had been an entertaining fight despite the differences between Jun and Keiko’s built and technique. He could recall watching how Jun had taken every punch and jab, how he’d kissed the floor when Keiko had stealthily slipped past his guard.  
  
Now those lips were on him, soft and gentle as they pressed repeatedly against his jaw. He felt Jun’s erection against his thigh, insistent inside his trousers. The feel of it made him wish he could arch against Jun, have friction right where he wanted it. Jun’s mouth moved to his earlobe, sucking on the jewelry Sho had recently put there, and Sho squeezed his biceps, barely able to suppress a groan.  
  
“Good morning,” he managed to say, breath hitching when he felt Jun’s teeth close around the loop and tug on it gently.  
  
“Good morning to you, too,” Jun whispered, hands slipping inside Sho’s cloak to feel more of Sho’s skin.  
  
\--  
  
“I am Crown Prince Matsumoto Jun, the rightful king of Saiph, and I think your emperor would like to hear what I have to say.”  
  
He’s played that transmission repeatedly since Iseya forwarded it to him. He’s memorized every intonation, every expression. The first time he brought himself to watch it, he’d only done so after getting himself sufficiently inebriated.  
  
The enemy prince he’s been told about all his life has finally come, only that he’s not here to invade, but to lend aid. His newfound ally who happens to be his planet’s sworn enemy is also the same man who stood by his side and won his trust.  
  
The universe has its own wicked sense of humor.  
  
It took a few days before the Saiphans reached Hamal. Days which Sho used to prepare, to reorient himself with control. He thought of the facts and repeated them carefully to himself: there was no Jun; there is only a King, just as there is no man, only an Emperor.  
  
Whatever happened between them hardly mattered.  
  
“Is it true?” his mother asks, and Sho’s fingers pause on the pad settled on his lap.  
  
“That I’ve committed Hamal to an alliance? That after the civil war, I’ve decided to engage in an intergalactic war?” he asks back, not sparing her a glance.  
  
“That the Saiphan king saved your life,” she says, ignoring his insubordination for once. “Twice.”  
  
“Once in this palace and once in Lucida Ventris,” Sho clarifies. “Yes, it’s true. Wherever I go, someone wants to murder me.” He finally lifts his gaze to hers. “I didn’t want you to know. You are still recovering.”  
  
“I am bound to know, being your mother,” she says. “I owe him my gratitude for ensuring Hamal had her Emperor and I still have my son.”  
  
Sho waves his hand in dismissal. “Don’t thank him. It won’t be seen for what it is. Everything is political now; every move I make tantamounts to a motive. He will think I sent you.”  
  
“You always have a motive,” she tells him bluntly. Sho smiles. “It’s why my court hated you. They can never tell what you were thinking.”  
  
“He can,” Sho says before he catches himself. It’s too late to take it back. “It’s frustrating. He probably knows what I’m about to do.”  
  
“Your mind is made up; you want this alliance.”  
  
“I want our people to survive,” Sho says. “I’m choosing the path that makes that more likely.”  
  
“For Hamal and for him,” she concludes, and Sho throws her a look. It doesn’t work. “You cannot have both; you know this.”  
  
Never one to lose, Sho holds his head high. Stays defiant. “Whoever said I want both?”  
  
She stares at him, and Sho holds his ground. “I didn’t want a hero for a son,” she tells him regretfully. She always knew him best.  
  
It makes Sho turn away, focus shifting to his pad. It lights up on the slightest touch, and he sees the face of the Saiphan king he’s currently housing in his palace, frozen mid-transmission.  
  
Say the words, he asked earlier. The man doesn’t exist.  
  
“No,” he agrees. “You wanted an Emperor.”  
  
\--  
  
“Are we really needed at court today? We can simply remain here until it’s time for us to go to the spaceport,” Jun said after the second time, when they could barely move and could only remain pressed together. The proximity was something Sho enjoyed. Breathing in Jun’s space was becoming an ordinary occurrence.  
  
Still, he had to ask. “And hold court here in our chambers? With me naked and all the marks you left on my body today and the night before visible for our joint council to see?”  
  
Jun eyed him appreciatively, like he still wasn’t sated. “You’re not the only whose body is marked.”  
  
Sho traced a reddened bruise over Jun’s collarbone. He’d done that, though he couldn’t remember if it had been given last night or just this morning. He pressed his lips over it, an overdue gesture of softness. “You want to terrorize my advisors.”  
  
“And your Ambassador,” Jun said. “You two are awfully close.”  
  
Sho looked at him and saw a twitch in his expression. He buried his face in Jun’s shoulder and suppressed his laughter there. “You’re jealous of Mizukawa? Of all people? We grew up together in the palace; her father was a former courtier. She succeeded him, and she supported my campaign by sending supplies and funding. Didn’t you ever wonder how come my men in the outskirts were all well-fed?”  
  
“I knew you had allies you never told me about,” Jun said. “I am not jealous. It was an observation. You two spend time together.”  
  
“She is the Ambassador to Saiph; it is natural,” Sho said, shaking his head. “I never reacted like this with your Ambassador.”  
  
“Because we are not in Hamal yet,” Jun said. “Which reminds me; there’s something I should tell you.”  
  
Sho focused on him, startled by the abrupt change of subject.  
  
“The council pressured me to reinstitute the King’s harem from day one since my ascension,” Jun said. From the look on his face, this had to be troubling him for a while.  
  
“They want an heir,” Sho concluded, “to secure the throne.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun said.  
  
The hard pressure in Sho’s chest was difficult to ignore. He pushed it aside and put all his attention to the matter at hand, dissecting it. It would be best for Jun to agree, to appease his council and to safeguard his planet’s future—their future. While Hamal had an heir in Mai and her future children, a child of the Emperor’s High Consort would also inherit the Hamali throne. If Jun would father a child of his own blood, the child would be a monarch of two planets united.  
  
Hamal, despite its inclinations to traditions, didn’t practice a harem. They had arranged marriages, and any potential arrangement was done with an initial examination whether both parties could sire and bear an offspring.  
  
Surrogacy was another option, which was also easier to accomplish with a harem. And yet.  
  
Sho let out a breath, looking past Jun. “You should say yes.”  
  
Fingers gently coaxing on his chin made him turn his head, eyes meeting Jun’s.  
  
“I already declined,” Jun said. It came as a surprise to Sho; he hadn’t expected to hear that. He’d thought Jun was asking for his opinion or his permission.  
  
Jun was shaking his head. “I can’t. In Saiph, a King may have a mistress or as many as he liked. But I can’t do it. I don’t want them. I will never want them.”  
  
“You don’t have an heir,” Sho said.  
  
“I have you,” Jun said evenly, confidently, as if Sho had been the price.  
  
Sho was.  
  
“We can easily opt for a surrogacy if you have a harem since all the women would be sworn to your name, loyal to your throne and mine by extension,” Sho tried; reason won out in him, in the end. “You will have an heir whom I shall name mine, and the child will hold both of our thrones.”  
  
“Surrogacy can take place with or without a harem,” Jun said stubbornly, evenly. His arms around Sho tightened. “If it comes to that, then it comes to that. I will not marry you and have hundreds of women vying for my attention and favor which they will never have.” Jun stared at him. “Do you think I’d look at anyone else? Do you believe I can? You told me you’re mine for life once we’re married. Then I’m yours, too, for life.”  
  
Sho kissed him, unable to do anything else. He couldn’t deny being elated at Jun’s decision, in that part of him that had always been selfish when it came to Jun.  
  
His hand around Jun’s arm tightened in its grip. He wouldn’t share. He never liked sharing.  
  
“We’re not married yet,” Sho said. “I thought I could wait. But now, right now, it’s all I want to happen.”  
  
“As my Consort, my people see us already married,” Jun said. “But I want a ceremony. I want to present you, to show them the reason why I’m stopping the practice of my ancestors. It’s not mere stubbornness.”  
  
“Yes it is,” Sho said fondly, finger tracing Jun’s bottom lip, circling the mark he had below it. Jun made a face, and he smiled. “It’s just like you to refuse. How long did you let them pester you with the suggestion?”  
  
Jun blinked, as if he didn’t understand the question or he heard something disbelieving from Sho’s mouth.  
  
“I refused the very first day they had made mention of it,” Jun said. “My decision was made even before I received my crown. I—”  
  
Thought you knew that, he didn’t say.  
  
“I know,” Sho told him honestly. “But I also wanted what was best for you. You are responsible for two planets now.”  
  
“And I swore to be their guardian and protector, their shield if needed be on the day of my ascension,” Jun said. “But I don’t belong to them.”  
  
“You can’t be choosing me over the prospect of an heir,” Sho said, despite his heart wishing for it. The idea was absolutely preposterous; the throne should be secured to prevent the idea of challengers to the throne from starting a revolt. What had happened in Hamal could not happen here.  
  
Jun leaned his weight on one arm, pushing himself up so he could loom over Sho. “If my line ends with me, so be it. Mai and her children can inherit both the Hamali and the Saiphan thrones when we’re gone.” He leaned closer, forehead resting against Sho’s. “I’ll always make the same choice.”  
  
“Yes, you’re a stubborn fool,” Sho acquiesced, arms circling Jun’s nape. “The council won’t be pleased.”  
  
“I’m not here to please them,” Jun pointed out.  
  
“Their favor is crucial to cementing our rule,” Sho reminded him. He traced Jun’s brow with his forefinger. “How does that saying from the Old World go? ‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown’?”  
  
“Not so heavy if I have you with me,” Jun said, dropping a kiss to the angle of his lips. “What would my Emperor have me do?”  
  
Sho looked at him, and saw that Jun was truly letting him decide. His expression remained curious and a little expectant, and Sho closed his eyes.  
  
“We’ll find a way without a harem,” he said with finality, and he could feel Jun’s smile against his mouth as Jun kissed him once more.  
  
Sho pulled him closer, wanting all of him, feeling himself sink further into the sheets as Jun nudged his legs apart to make room for himself.  
  
They’d be late to court at this rate, but it hardly mattered. They could shatter expectations on their last day on this planet. He and Jun had spent months of adhering to schedules, of agreeing to the council’s whims and demands just to gain their trust and respect.  
  
If it was getting closer to midday, Sho didn’t care. Jun was making him feel good with his hands and tongue, and nothing seemed more important than losing himself to the sensations.  
  
“Jun,” he whispered, back arching.  
  
“I’m here,” Jun breathed against his flesh, and Sho smiled.  
  
“Yes,” he said against the soft pillows, “you always are.”  
  
\--  
  
The solstice is expected to happen earlier than what the scholars of Sheratan have predicted, and Sho snorts at the thought of their self-absorbed faces probably laced with disappointment.  
  
He won’t see them; he’s in the outskirts. But the thought is quite amusing, nonetheless.  
  
“The last of the shipment has finally arrived. Beyond schedule, but at least it didn’t disappear without a trace,” Toma tells him, and he barely acknowledges the news. Handler ships one after another may come, and he will never have enough numbers to help him establish his claim.  
  
He knows he is on the losing side.  
  
“Go with Aiba and meet me in my dome,” he tells Toma, who obeys the order with loud footsteps. It takes a few seconds for Sho to find peace; there’s always a commotion in the camp. He makes his way back, ignoring the obeisances he receives with each member of his army he comes across with.  
  
Here, he’s no Emperor Apparent. He’s just one man trying to prevent his planet from destroying itself.  
  
When Aiba and Toma arrive with the recruits, all Sho has to do was to throw a brief glance at the entourage. They lack in numbers, and this final shipment (for now) has fewer fugitives than expected. He will never amass a capable force in time.  
  
“This is Ninomiya Kazunari,” Aiba says, and while Sho admires the swindler’s reputation, it does nothing to help his case. If only he can use Ninomiya’s talents for something that will ensure his victory.  
  
Ninomiya’s cheeky attitude is entertaining, but nothing Sho hasn’t seen. It’s typical for men who run from the law. If he becomes desperate enough, perhaps he can make a deal with the High Prison and obtain monetary compensation for the accidental capture of Ninomiya Kazunari.  
  
The Saiphan intrigues him, only because he is the oddity. Saiphans have only seen Sheratan, not this portion of barren inland that Sho uses to conceal his activities from his mother. And yet, here is one, dressed as a merchant and brought by a progressively deteriorating spaceship.  
  
“Is that true?” he asks, once Aiba tells him that the Crown Prince of Saiph is recently deceased. They never met, but he was perhaps as distasteful as his father. He would have conquered Hamal just so he could claim he’d successfully subjugated the Hamali.  
  
“Which part?” the Saiphan asks, and it’s the men who react, hands tightening on their weapons and taking offense at the obvious insult.  
  
Sho somehow regrets the loss of the gag. But being Emperor Apparent means he can always order for it to be placed back where it belongs.  
  
“The name first, followed by the news you brought. Well?”  
  
“It’s all true,” the Saiphan says, and Sho looks at him, at his clothing and posture. They don’t match. The man in front of him stands like he waits for obeisance, as if the clothes he’s wearing are beneath him.  
  
This can be a clever disguise by a man sent to be a spy. Sho almost tells Aiba to execute the Saiphan, but something holds him back.  
  
“How did he die?” he asks, curious. To his knowledge, Crown Prince Jun was a year younger than him. For him to die at such a young age was unthinkable.  
  
“He didn’t see it coming.”  
  
Sho watches him for a brief moment and decides to wait it out. He looks at Aiba, who seems to be waiting for an order to use his weapon on the Saiphan.  
  
A wise emperor would eliminate the threat at the first sight of it.  
  
Sho doesn’t claim to be wise; he’s not a renowned scholar of Sheratan. But the solstice has proven that even the wisest can make mistakes, and Sho intends to keep his cards very close.  
  
He digs for more information about this Saiphan, a supposed enemy of the royal family, who also, for strange reasons, bears the same name as the late prince. Something doesn’t add up and Sho wants to find what. Someone is trying to make sure he will fail in his plan of counterattack and he has a feeling this Saiphan standing in front of him is part of that scheme.  
  
But he never liked killing innocents. It was not the Hamali way. Saiphans are the ones known for that.  
  
He gives a nod once his prodding satisfies him. Clearly, the Saiphan is hiding something, but everyone has his secrets. Sho being here is supposed to be a secret, especially to the citizens of the enemy planet, but things don’t often go according to plan.  
  
The gag is affixed once more, and Sho decides to show his hand. For now.  
  
“Let’s see what the swindler and the enemy of the royalty can do when they can’t talk their way out of a problem.”  
  
\--  
  
Hamal was in a celebratory mood when the Saiphan flagship had officially docked in the spaceport of Sheratan, the cheers of the Hamali overheard even from inside the dome. Sho was yet to dress himself for the parade; he’d spent the last six hours in hyperspace drafting letters and treatises with Jun, and his back ached from all the sitting.  
  
“Bridge to the Emperor,” said Ohno’s voice through the ship’s communicators, and Sho merely had to speak to respond. “The docking is complete. The royal family awaits you and the High Consort outside.”  
  
“We will be there in a moment,” Sho said before shutting off communications. He looked to his left and saw Jun dressed in a fine shirt with an even finer vest, his trousers matching with the mixed colors of his vest. He had his shoes on and was only missing his coat.  
  
“We mustn’t keep your mother waiting,” Jun said, “and your siblings.”  
  
“They can wait,” Sho said, enjoying the nervousness Jun still exhibited around his family. “You saw the robes I’m about to wear. Layers upon layers of fabric.”  
  
“And silks and sashes,” Jun added with a smile. He stood beside Sho and placed his hands on Sho’s shoulders, fingers poised around the tight cord of muscle. “Do we have time?”  
  
“We do if you start now,” Sho said, ending in an appreciative gasp as Jun kneaded, releasing tension brought by hours of remaining upright. Sho didn’t look forward to all the celebrations made in honor of their arrival, but as Emperor he had to be present in each and every one of them.  
  
The only good thing about it, he thought, was the chance to see Jun’s court assimilate itself in every gathering. He couldn’t miss it.  
  
“Here?” Jun asked, squeezing, and Sho let out a breath.  
  
“There,” he whispered. “That’s amazing. I should’ve let you do this for me a long time ago.”  
  
“You would’ve had me killed had I laid my hands on you when I still wore your badge,” Jun said.  
  
“Imprisoned, not killed,” Sho corrected, grinning. “For touching the Emperor Apparent.”  
  
“In your planet, that is punishable by death,” Jun said, and it pleased Sho that he’d done his research. He’d rule over Hamal now with Sho.  
  
“Yes, but I would have made an exception for you,” Sho said. “As you already know, I didn’t like you very much. Yet I could never bring myself to truly harm you, so I settled for merely pissing you off.”  
  
“Countless times,” Jun admitted, fingers still working magic around Sho’s shoulders. “I often thought about having our roles reversed.”  
  
“I know,” Sho said. “I saw it in you.” He reached up and tapped on Jun’s hand, and Jun stopped. “That’s enough. We’re making them wait too long.”  
  
He stood and stalked to the closet, and began stripping as fast as he could. In the colder months he’d spent in the outskirts, he’d learned how. Having himself bare became methodical, not an art to please a one-time partner. It was only now that Sho could indulge in such things, but too many affairs required his attention. If it were up to him, he’d focus all of it to Jun alone.  
  
With every layer he shed, he could sense Jun’s eyes on his form.  
  
“We have no time,” he said as a reminder, shrugging on the inner garment. When he’d gotten his crown, they’d found reasons to add more to his clothes.  
  
“I’m just looking,” Jun said, but his voice carried meaning.  
  
Sho raised a finger between them. “I don’t require your help.”  
  
“I know,” Jun said, laughing. “You only need it with removing clothes, not with putting them on.”  
  
“How astute of you,” Sho commented lightly, tying up the sash for a finishing touch. He felt more like an Emperor now with the long robes and its rich hues. Jun already shrugged on his coat, but he was yet to fix it.  
  
Sho moved in front of him, tugging on the lapels to make both sides symmetrical. This close, he could feel Jun’s breath on his cheek. His fingers wound up, straightening Jun’s collar, and when Jun inclined his head, he stepped back.  
  
The twitch of annoyance on Jun’s face was worth it.  
  
He picked up Jun’s gloves and tossed them to him. “Come. They’ve waited long enough.”  
  
“Long enough to start the rumors,” Jun said, and Sho offered his arm, which Jun took. They made their way out together, paces matching after months of practice in the Saiphan court. The hall was lined with the members of the Royal Army, acting as escorts as they walked to where the hatch of the ship was.  
  
Ohno was there, standing side-by-side with Shun, the two of them saluting at once. Outside, Sho saw his mother, sister, and behind them stood Mai’s supposed fiance, whom he was only meeting today.  
  
“Were they waiting too long?” Sho asked.  
  
Ohno shook his head. “They just got here.”  
  
He smiled, shooting Jun a knowing look. “That’s Mai for you.” He inclined his head to the exit. “Shall we?”  
  
Jun merely nodded, and descending the steps jarred Sho for the briefest of moments. This was the first time he had to meet his mother while arm-in-arm with the High Consort. He never had to introduce anyone to her before, and while she did know Jun and what he was to Sho, it was still mildly unsettling.  
  
He realized he was perfectly fine with the entire galaxy knowing, but was nervous once his family became concerned.  
  
He let Jun go and embraced his mother when they got close enough. She held him tight, locked in the moment for a few seconds.  
  
“You look—” she said, drawing back, appraising his appearance carefully. She was just as imposing as her statue on the city square.  
  
“Aged?” Sho suggested. “I hope not. Do you see a graying hair?”  
  
“—healthy,” his mother continued, an eyebrow quirking. Despite the years, Sho was still intimidated by her presence. He’d inherited his stubbornness from her. “Unlike those other times I’ve seen you come home.”  
  
“There weren’t a lot of resources allocated to food back in the outskirts,” Sho said with a smile. “You see, hiding an army from _your_ army was the true challenge.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her ring. “I’m overjoyed to return home once more.”  
  
He stepped to the side, breath hitching when his mother walked past him, standing in front of Jun without the necessary introductions. He was aware he should’ve done them, but he quite liked the lost look that flitted across Jun’s face.  
  
“Please don’t threaten him,” Sho said, which earned him a disapproving glare from Jun. He smiled. “I’m quite fond of him, Mother. I think he has his uses.”  
  
“Won’t you ever shut up?” Mai asked fondly, and Sho embraced her in greeting, mirroring her amused smile. She squeezed him tight. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jun accepting his mother’s embrace rather awkwardly.  
  
“It’s true; I quite like him,” Sho whispered, laughing against his sister’s hair.  
  
“Please, the entire planet knows,” she said when they pulled back. “I like your earring.”  
  
“Of course you do,” he said, directing his smile to Mai’s fiance, a nobleman from Cygni. Sho approved of the choice; anyone without attachments to the Cygnian royal family was better—they would have no claim to the joint thrones of Saiph and Hamal.  
  
The young man made his obeisance—to him and to Jun—, and Sho offered him his ring. He kissed it, and Sho saw him do the same to Jun’s, and he gestured for him to rise.  
  
“Don’t get married before I do,” he told Mai, who rolled her eyes. Like this, nobody could chastise her. “I mean it. At least wait a year.”  
  
“We’re not in a hurry,” she assured him, and Sho looked out.  
  
“Where,” he said, finally noticing, “is Shu?”  
  
“On a diplomatic mission in your name,” his mother told him. “He will be absent for the rest of the celebrations. The council is relieved.”  
  
“I’m beyond thrilled to know he’s terrorizing them in my name as well,” Sho said sincerely, heading out. He saw Jun offer his arm to his mother, which she took with all the grace she’d long mastered, and they set out, meeting the awaiting crowd.  
  
As Emperor, he had to lead the entourage. Jun was supposed to walk beside him, but given the circumstances, he had to defer to the Empress mother’s standing authority. The procession would at least be done with them riding a carriage, its thrusters now powered by state-of-the-art Saiphan technology.  
  
His family had no duties to greet the people, and so they hung back, sitting on the custom-made thrones on deck while Sho leaned over the ledge. He raised his arm in greeting and the crowd cheered, petals raining in his name as the procession moved.  
  
Jun stood beside him, clearly used to celebrations like this, directing his charming smile to the people as he greeted them as well. The cheers grew louder; his people had adored Jun from the start.  
  
“The last time I saw the city this crowded,” Sho mused, “was when it welcomed the King of Saiph, recently risen from the dead. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they love you more than me.”  
  
“Jealous over this now?” Jun asked, smiling. “I see Saiphan clothing admixed with the Hamali robes. Cultures are mixing faster than we expected.”  
  
Looking out, Sho saw the same thing, and he also noticed how the people remarked on his earring. Hamali would never miss a source of gossip, especially when right in front of them.  
  
“How many people are going to point at your ear?” Jun asked after a moment.  
  
Sho laughed. “Count,” he said in amusement. “They’re just surprised. I’ve never worn anyone’s jewelry on my person before.”  
  
“Surprised,” Jun said, not convinced. “Is it so strange for a High Consort to offer gifts to his Emperor?”  
  
“No,” Sho said.  
  
“Then it’s your reputation,” Jun concluded, which was absolutely correct. “I’d ask how difficult you’ve been except that I already know based on experience.”  
  
“That’s one of the most flattering things I’ve heard from your mouth, lover,” Sho said, enjoying how the tips of Jun’s ears turned pink. Jun never liked labels. He adored his title, but any terms of endearment made him shudder in embarrassment.  
  
Which only amused Sho more; embarrassing Jun was one of his favorite things to do.  
  
They reached the entrance to the palace, and Sho’s family disembarked while he and Jun remained, still waving at the people who’d come to welcome them. Some of them were from the farther provinces, making the effort to see their Emperor and the Saiphan king as they made their return. Sho appreciated it in his heart, and gestured for Ohno.  
  
“Let the entire city know,” he said, “that everyone’s invited to the celebrations. Regardless of their rank, even if they’re Hamali or not, they may come. I want the palace gates opened tonight.”  
  
Ohno only blinked and nodded. “As you wish.”  
  
He turned, seeing Jun watching him, arm still raised as he waved at the people.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
Jun smiled, stepping close to him, their chests nearly touching. Far from respectable in public and borderline scandalous, perhaps. Sho looked up, seeing a familiar glint in Jun’s eyes.  
  
“Let’s give them something to gossip about,” Jun whispered, long fingers grasping his chin to tilt his face up. Sho’s decision to invite everyone undoubtedly made him happy, but Sho hadn’t done it to impress him. He truly wanted to thank his people and to perhaps meet them in person, to know their stories.  
  
He’d been away from Hamal for so long.  
  
Sho wrapped a hand around the lapel of Jun’s coat, meeting him halfway, and the deafening escalation of cheers made him smile against Jun’s mouth.  
  
“I was right,” he said eventually, when they were climbing the marble steps leading to the palace.  
  
Jun frowned. “Right? About what?”  
  
Sho hummed, reaching out with a finger to graze over Jun’s bottom lip, at the part he’d only recently kissed. He spoke and earned Jun’s spirited chuckle.  
  
“You do have your uses.”  
  
\--  
  
“Did you bruise anywhere?” he asks sometime after. Otonoha is silent—no beeping of the console signalling ongoing autopilot, no steady hum of the engines indicating ship movement through a plotted course.  
  
“Bruise?” Jun asks, turning on his side to face him. His stay in the camp contributed to his bulk, to the strong line of his biceps.  
  
Sho wants to touch him. Again, but he refrains, curls his hands into fists and rests his head on them. He can’t be indulgent. He can’t afford it.  
  
“I imagine the training in my camp is stricter in comparison to what you’ve been used to,” Sho clarifies. In the dark, he can’t see the color of Jun’s eyes, but he knows exactly what shade of brown they are.  
  
“Okada is quite adept in tending to bruises,” Jun says, and Sho smiles. He hopes it can be seen.  
  
“There were lots of snow then,” he says, amused at how Jun reacts. “Where?”  
  
“The head of your security pummelled me to the ground many times,” Jun reminds him. “You’ve seen her do it twice.”  
  
“And what a show you’ve put together at that time,” he acknowledges, remembering. It was the first time he allowed himself not only to look, but to _see_.  
  
There are things Sho likes in a man, aside from being able to hold an intellectual conversation with him.  
  
“You told me you wanted me to suffer,” Jun says after a moment. “The kind that will eat me from the inside, you said.”  
  
“Did it happen?”  
  
An expression passes over Jun’s face before it abruptly disappears. But Sho catches it, dissects it. He knows.  
  
“You know it did,” Jun says after a moment.  
  
“Do you want an apology?” Sho asks. “I’m not officially Emperor, so it will perhaps be meaningless, but if you want—”  
  
“No,” Jun says. That habit of his to interrupt Sho is yet to disappear. Insolent, but strangely charming. “It’s done.”  
  
Tell me, Sho wants to say. Tell me who you are right now and that you will stay. That it can happen despite everything. That you’ll choose me over your planet.  
  
Lucida Ventris is at peace, the war now a thing of the past. Amidst the victory, Sho is an Emperor buried in ashes and half-truths, and he feels as though he is suffocating.  
  
No one saves him. His silent pleas have been falling on deaf ears since his youth; he has no one.  
  
“Where did you bruise?” he asks after a moment. “Show me.”  
  
“Why?” Jun can perhaps see into him; he rests his weight on one elbow and lifts his body, studying Sho’s face. “Why do you want to know?”  
  
Sho allows himself one impulsive decision at a time, and chooses to stretch his fingers and graze Jun’s collarbone. “To apologize. Physically,” he says, as if that makes sense.  
  
Jun lies back, and Sho listens as he begins enumerating. He plans to catalogue them all later; a kiss to each former bruise, to soothe an ache that faded long ago in order to mimic forgiveness.  
  
He looks at Jun and wonders if Jun can tell what he truly wants to find out.  
  
Do your injuries mirror mine?  
  
\--  
  
For an Emperor, Sho was making the habit of being absent in most of the celebrations made in his honor. Jun remained in the banquet hall with the rest of Sho’s family, addressing nobles and courtiers and other important guests. Jun was a King in his own right, and Sho had no doubt Jun could charm the entire palace given a full night.  
  
He, meanwhile, lingered in the courtyards and gardens, meeting common folk. He was disguised; dressed in clothes a nobleman would wear. He’d commissioned the aid of Mai’s fiance, and there was nothing the man wouldn’t do for the Emperor.  
  
Like this, it was easy to get lost in the throngs of people. The only person who knew of this plan was Jun, and they’d had a lengthy discussion about it before Sho had relented at Jun’s request of having at least one bodyguard with him.  
  
Keiko was by his side, also disguised, and her mouth had been curled in disapproval since they’d told her of Sho’s plan.  
  
“Feeding your own consort to the wolves,” Keiko muttered.  
  
“Hush now,” Sho said, smiling. No one recognized them, and he was able to swipe two drinks from an attendant without her sparing him a glance. “He will survive. He’s survived worse things than the Hamali court.”  
  
“Like a certain Hamali camp in the outskirts, for example?” Keiko asked, taking the drink from Sho and partaking. Despite her earlier protests, she was enjoying herself; it wasn’t every day she could admonish Sho for his decisions.  
  
“I’ve never heard of that one,” Sho said, taking the lead. He passed by different groups of people, eavesdropping on conversations and offering input when he felt the urge to do so. In the outer courtyard, he met the common folk, people of low birth who had hoped to see the Emperor.  
  
“I would’ve wanted to meet him up close,” an old woman told him when Sho had chosen to sit beside her on the steps. Together, they watched her grandchildren play, their toys newly shipped from Saiph. “He fought for us.”  
  
“What would you like to say to him if you meet him?” Sho asked, curious. As an Emperor, he’d never get to hear such things. The matters of the common folk were delegated to the different lords and ladies governing their respective provinces.  
  
“Oh, nothing much,” the old woman said, her smile crooked but genuine. Sho held her hand in his, her grip firm despite her age. “I just would like to wish him happiness. He seems happy in the parade earlier, and I hope he remains that way for the rest of his rule.”  
  
“Thank you,” he couldn’t help saying, and she looked at him in confusion. “I’m sure the Emperor would’ve appreciated that.”  
  
“You’re too kind, young man,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I never thought I’d live to see Saiphan ships flying in our skies, sharing in our trade. I never thought there’d be peace.” She looked up, and Sho wondered what she was thinking. Or seeing. “My son is up there.”  
  
Sho followed her gaze, understanding. He said nothing, not wanting to break the silence.  
  
“He defended Mesartim from Saiph when the old king had come to conquer,” she told him, her expression sad now.  
  
“I lost a friend in that fight,” Sho said. “I lost many.”  
  
“I think Hamal will take a long time to heal,” the old woman told him, “but she will heal. I don’t necessarily approve of the alliance, but I think the Emperor loves this planet. And he’s doing all he can to maintain peace, so yearned for and finally earned.”  
  
“Do you think Hamal can forgive?” he asked sincerely, and she smiled.  
  
“In time,” she said, and Sho vowed to carry her wisdom from that point on.  
  
\--  
  
The moment he steps inside his chambers, he knows something is wrong.  
  
Nothing is out of place. The pads on his desk are in the same state he left them when he had to make an appearance at court. His curtains remain unmoving; the servants are yet to enter and open his windows for the evening.  
  
The air is still. Too still.  
  
He hears the footstep, then a breath. Sho does a quick scan of his room, at the spots where he hid weapons in times like this. This isn’t the first time there’s been an attempt. That’s not what scares him.  
  
It’s how close they are to winning that does.  
  
He can feel the after-effects of the herbal tea the royal physician gave to him. He had to drink it for show; his mother insisted. There must be something in that drink, something that aggravates his condition further, slows down his reflexes.  
  
Keiko is in the outskirts, drilling formations and strategies with his personal guard. And Ohno—  
  
He sent Ohno away.  
  
Sho laughs, just as they appear. Four men, dressed like outlaws from the Outer Rim, likely hired by the serpents in his family. Untraceable to them should he survive, of course. He darts glances at the same hiding spots and finally notices.  
  
That’s what’s changed. They’ve been tampered with. His weapons, his only means of protecting himself—all gone.  
  
When he turns, he sees them in the hands of the men. Sho finds himself admiring them for being extremely thorough at combing his chambers for any secret compartments. His trusty knife is already strapped to one man’s belt, gold handle glinting under the light, as if tempting him to try to reach for it.  
  
He looks at his odds, calculates the probabilities of him making it out of here alive. Optimistically, he’ll be able to incapacitate three men and sustain only minor injuries.  
  
Realistically, he’ll perhaps manage to stop one before the other two get to him.  
  
“How much did they pay?” Sho asks.  
  
They don’t answer. He repeats his question in the common tongue, and still they don’t answer. They were either cautioned not to speak a word to him lest he turns them on themselves or they simply don’t understand what he’s saying.  
  
He feels mildly insulted that they sent illiterate henchmen to get the job done, but he supposes it’s not their intellect that got them hired in the first place.  
  
It’s their skills.  
  
Instinct tells Sho to scream, to put something something between him and the four men surrounding him.  
  
He takes a step and hears a phaser drawn. He makes a show of his hands to indicate that he has nothing to protect himself with. Another step, and he’s closer to the table where a tray of afternoon tea has been placed.  
  
A beat passes, and Sho can only hear his own heart.  
  
Then he runs, grabbing the tray, causing the porcelain cups to smash against the floor. The tray, he flings towards the nearest man, which only slows him down.  
  
They sneer at him once he looks at them. Even if he survives, he won’t be able to search for the origins of these men. Even if, miraculously, Ohno appears and subdues these four men, it ends there.  
  
Sho thinks of his planet—the camp at the outskirts, of Ohno, Aiba, and Keiko. He thinks of the fuel cells that are long overdue, of how Asami’s funds are steadily getting depleted with no hope of making a significant change that would ensure his chance of winning the fight.  
  
He thinks of what will happen to his people in the hands of traitorous Hamali and power-hungry Saiphan usurpers.  
  
A swoosh, and Sho whips his head to the source of the sound. His father, his mind tells him, his father has come back to save him from those tormenting him, right out of the passageways he taught to Sho many years ago.  
  
He can only stare at the face of the man who climbed out of the hole on the wall, just as the men around him turn to look at the intruder.  
  
“Duck!” the Saiphan says, and Sho doesn’t understand what makes him obey such an insolent command made by a lowly soldier to a future emperor.  
  
It all happens so fast. Two men keep the Saiphan preoccupied, while the other two corner Sho in the adjacent room. He moves not for his life, but for the future of his planet, disarming one man with a technique that Keiko ingrained in him by performing it on him more than thrice.  
  
He pushes the other man out of the way and sees him fall after hitting his head on the edge of a table. He hears shots fired in the other room and almost laughs: the Saiphan is double-crossing his allies, taking all the reward for himself, perhaps intending to use the money to return home.  
  
Sho has to admire the ruthlessness of it.  
  
He picks up a broken glass shard, the edge digging against his fingers and drawing blood. He’s able to evade the attempt to chokehold him and maneuvers his body with Keiko in mind. Since Nagase’s death, she took it upon herself to teach him how to defend himself, to buy himself time until help came.  
  
He has the shard against the man’s throat, body thrashing violently under him, when a phaser shot rings and knocks out the assassin under him.  
  
Sho moves quickly, pressing the shard against the Saiphan’s neck this time, trapping him between his body and the wall.  
  
“Who sent you?” he snarls, and the Saiphan grabs his wrist and pushes him back. His grip hurt.  
  
“I didn’t come to kill you,” the Saiphan says, looking at him like he’s gone mad.  
  
“You’re dressed like them!” Sho accuses, and the Saiphan doesn’t let go this time, squeezing tight that Sho thinks he might crush his wrist bones to smaller pieces. He drops the shard, hearing it break when it hits the floor.  
  
“This is a disguise!” the Saiphan hisses, and Sho reaches for a discarded phaser and points it against the man. His vision is beginning to swim.  
  
“Why didn’t you let me kill them if you’re not one of them?!”  
  
The answer makes him stop, the haze clearing. “Because you don’t have to be like them.”  
  
When he recovers, the anger directed at the attempt on his life is replaced by the familiar animosity he always harbored for this man.  
  
I have nothing to prove to you, Sho wants to say. Instead he pieces things together and eventually reaches the most likely explanation on how the Saiphan made it to Sheratan with all his limbs intact.  
  
“Ohno,” he says.  
  
“He’s looking for you,” the Saiphan tells him. Sho tunes out the rest of what he has to say, only responding as needed. The Saiphan claims that Ohno sent him to help him look. That he promised. Why he did, Sho doesn’t know.  
  
He doesn’t have the time. He shoots three of the four men until the Saiphan bodily steps in the line of fire, preventing him from killing the fourth. There’s a restraining hand circling his wrist, grip bordering on being painful.  
  
You forget your place, Sho almost hurls at him. He settles for a pointed look.  
  
“Stop,” the Saiphan says, his tone not argumentative for the first time. “Stop.”  
  
Sho wants him infuriated. He wants the Saiphan to be angry, to be as enraged as he’d been the last time they saw one another. He doesn’t want this—the look of understanding in the eyes of the enemy, laced with pity.  
  
“You’re not like me,” the Saiphan tells him. “You’re not like my people.”  
  
Sho loosens his grip on the phaser, allowing the Saiphan to pry it off his hand. He puts distance between them and doesn’t react when the Saiphan stuns the unconscious man one more time.  
  
He shuts his eyes and hears footsteps, this time too many to be hired mercenaries. His royal guard, late to the party, perhaps sent by the same person who sent these four men in Sho’s chambers. Covering their tracks effectively, efficiently.  
  
“Go,” he says quietly.  
  
The Saiphan stops, darts a glance at the doors, and turns back to him. Has he gone deaf?  
  
“It’s my royal guard,” Sho says, detached. “They won’t harm me.”  
  
Not yet, he thinks. Not so soon.  
  
The Saiphan is still hesitating, still lingering. He says things that Sho already knows, and Sho tells him again to leave. “They can’t see you.” He has the gall to doubt Sho when Sho tells him he has to leave now.  
  
“I know what to say,” Sho says with finality. “Go.”  
  
This time, the Saiphan listens. He slips through the hole in the wall and Sho looks at his hands, at the lines there, at the marks he’s known since he was a boy.  
  
They turned him to a murderer. Soon, they’ll have him kill his own people to fight for his throne. And when that’s not enough, they’ll have him kill himself.  
  
He may have lived past today, but it’s nothing to be grateful for. He’s only delaying the inevitable. Soon, they will win.  
  
\--  
  
It would be hours later before Sho found himself in the inner courtyard, close to where the palace was. The night seemed longer when people were celebrating, so engrossed in their gossip and speculations. He’d heard rumors that could last him a lifetime.  
  
He spotted an empty bench close to where two women were having a rather engaging chat. Their view overlooked the gardens and the edge of the cliffs. The people close to the two kept throwing glances at them, and Sho took the closest seat to hear what they had to say.  
  
“I would love to meet the Saiphan king,” one of the women was saying, her dark hair adorned with finely shaped pearls. Her olive skin made her stand out, and Sho passed a glance over her clothing. An aristocrat.  
  
“Not the Emperor?” her friend asked; another aristocrat but perhaps of lower rank.  
  
The first woman waved her hand in dismissal, earning a few disapproving looks from the people surrounding them. Sho had always known of the loyalty most of the people had towards the crown, but seeing it in person was rather amusing.  
  
“Everybody knows what the Emperor looks like,” she said, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard. “Everyone’s tried to vy for his attention and no Hamali held his favor long enough.”  
  
“You want to meet the man who managed to?” her friend asked with a grin, and she nodded.  
  
“Who doesn’t? If they were truly allied in secret from the very beginning and fell in love somewhere along the way, I’d like to meet him,” she said. “He must be a great man.”  
  
“I heard he fought alongside the Emperor in the battle of Lucida Ventris,” Sho offered, and even without looking, he knew Keiko was sighing.  
  
“And never left his side,” one person chided, earning a chorus of approval.  
  
“My friend’s brother fought in the same war,” one added, “and he claimed that nobody had known who the Saiphan prince was all along. Except the Emperor.”  
  
“The Emperor is a great man,” one said, and Sho lowered his head, concealing his face under his cloak. “Surely, the man he’s chosen must also be.”  
  
“Do you approve of the alliance?” the woman from earlier asked, and she addressed the people gathered around them. “Do you believe in it?”  
  
“I do,” her friend said cheerfully. “My family intends to start business in Saiph. I think that for as long as the alliance lasts, we can all move on from what has happened. It’s time.”  
  
Her statement gained the approval of the majority, and Sho exchanged glances with Keiko.  
  
“I think if the Saiphan king remains true to the Emperor, it will last,” one said, which made Sho look at him. “He has a reputation. Even his own people know of his appetites.”  
  
“So does the Emperor,” one said, and everyone laughed. “I think, all things considered, the alliance will be good for us. If we believe in the Emperor, he won’t let us down.”  
  
Sho stood, and he was only able to take a few steps when he heard a question directed at him.  
  
“Before you leave, tell us. Do you believe in the alliance?” the same woman asked Sho, and when Sho looked over his shoulder, the pearls in her hair were glittering under the moonlight.  
  
“I don’t,” he said, and the answering gasp followed by silence made the air too still.  
  
Sho studied their faces and saw Saiphans in the crowd as well, amidst his people. That they could stand so close without attracting danger or animosity was a testament to each step forward he and Jun had taken.  
  
He smiled, knowing that the hood of the cloak couldn’t conceal it.  
  
“I believe in the Saiphan king.”  
  
The surprise only lasted for a moment. “Not in the Emperor?” someone asked, and Sho detected the ire in his tone. Perhaps they’d thought he was insulting their monarch.  
  
“I think,” he said honestly, “that the Emperor can do anything if he has someone he trusts by his side.”  
  
“The Saiphan king?” someone asked, another noble judging from the clothes he wore. He gestured to where the palace stood. “He’s receiving guests on his own. The Emperor is nowhere to be found. How is that for a stable alliance?”  
  
Murmurs fell over the crowd, and Sho lifted his head, trying to place the man’s face. He couldn’t remember him. He hoped this man wasn’t a member of his own court.  
  
“The fact that the Emperor trusts the Saiphan king is all the proof you need,” a woman said, her tone challenging.  
  
“The Saiphan king might be ruling in the Emperor’s stead while he’s presently absent in his own celebration,” the nobleman said. “He might be out there, cementing Saiphan rule over Hamal’s, intending to conquer us slowly. How do we know for sure?”  
  
“We don’t,” the woman from earlier said after her long silence. “But that’s why we believe. If our Emperor believes in him, he must be worth it.”  
  
“Can a simple marriage undo years and years of bloodshed? Have you all gone naïve? Tricked by the handsome face of a would-be conqueror, hoodwinked by a Saiphan like our Emperor?” The nobleman snorted. “The Saiphan king isn’t even looking for the Emperor, happily entertaining guests in his absence. How do you know he cares about you—about all of us—when he can’t even care about his consort’s whereabouts?”  
  
At that, Sho had to laugh. He couldn’t help it, his delight taking over him, making his shoulders shake.  
  
He could feel the stare of everyone around him. Even Keiko, though her gaze had to be different from the rest. She knew him, and probably had an inkling on what he was about to say.  
  
“If the Emperor is truly missing, the entirety of Sheratan would be on alert.” He turned to the people. “Rest assured, he’s not gone. And even if he is, he will be found.”  
  
“How do you know?” the nobleman asked skeptically, and Sho had to grin. They heard a series of footsteps followed by an escalation of murmurs in the crowd, and Sho thought, Jun loved making a scene as much as he did.  
  
“He always finds him,” he said with confidence, just as the crowd parted and gave obeisance.  
  
Jun was dressed like a King, stood like a King, and garnered awe and adoration like a King. Sho’s colors of bright red highlighted the paleness of his skin, the cut of his cheekbones. Sho took a moment to admire the intricate stitching of Jun’s coat before he mimicked the people around him and made his obeisance.  
  
“What rumors have you started this time?” Jun asked to seemingly no one in particular. Sho didn’t react and kept his head down, gaze fixed on his feet.  
  
“That doesn’t suit you,” Jun said after a moment, and Sho could sense the confusion of the people around them. Jun, however, stalked forward and stopped right where Sho stood, his head inclined. Under the hem of his cloak, he could see Jun’s polished, gold-buckled boots.  
  
“The cloak, Your Majesty?” he asked, not bothering to remove his hood. Any other man would have.  
  
He could hear Jun’s amusement. “The deference.”  
  
Sho lifted his head, meeting his eyes. They had slicked Jun’s hair back. Sho didn’t like it. It made him look more intimidating than he truly was. “You would know. Did you miss me? Was I gone that long?”  
  
“Long enough that people were wondering where their Emperor was,” Jun said, and he cast a sweeping gaze around them. “Gossiping by the fountain, really?”  
  
“The woes of noblemen in the palace bore me,” Sho said, staring at the nobleman from earlier, who was now stupefied with the slow realization as Sho finally lowered his hood. “You’d find they speak their minds clearly when they’re outside the palace walls.”  
  
“But still within the premises. I take it your immersion was productive?” Jun asked, offering his now-outstretched palm, where Sho’s earring lay. Sho had had him hold on to it as he’d disguised himself. By now, everyone around them seemed to finally understand, and some clamored to incline their heads out of respect.  
  
Sho removed his cloak, handed it to Keiko’s waiting hands, smiling at her expression of mild disapproval. She never liked theatrics.  
  
He took the earring from Jun and put it back, and no one around him met his eyes. They were all staring at the floor.  
  
Except for Jun, who was looking at him.  
  
He linked his arm with Jun’s, hand curled around Jun’s bicep, not caring if their clothes didn’t match. Jun looked like every bit of the King that he was, and Sho was dressed like a traveling merchant. It reminded him of how Jun had looked like when they’d first met.  
  
“More productive than yours,” he said, grinning. He pointed to the noblewoman from earlier. “Someone wanted to meet you.”  
  
“Making friends?” Jun asked, inclining his head in greeting as the noblewoman gave her obeisance once more. Sho didn’t miss how she took a moment to stare at Jun’s appearance.  
  
“Baby steps,” Sho said. He leaned closer, whispering the next words into Jun’s space. “We still have work to do.”  
  
“It appears so,” Jun whispered back. “I overheard the conversation earlier.” He drew back, eyes alight. “You knew I’d find you, sooner or later.”  
  
“Far sooner than I preferred, but still within the expected time frame,” Sho acknowledged. He let Jun and their guards escort them back to the palace, leaving the people from earlier still in a state of disbelief. Their Emperor had personally heard their concerns and personal thoughts. “Anything to report about my court?”  
  
“They have finalized the toll fees for the new gates surrounding the new borders,” Jun said. “One of the three recently established trade routes had an encounter with pirates and pillagers, but the High Prison already took action. No Saiphan or Hamali ship was harmed or stolen from.”  
  
“We need to maximize the patrols on the borders, then,” Sho concluded, earning Jun’s approving hum. “The High Prison is only concerned as long as the trade route is taken by outlaws on their list. Now that Saiph has shared their technology, those outlaws want to get their hands on it and offer the goods for black market trade. Are we certain our good friend Ninomiya has not returned to his former means of livelihood?”  
  
Jun laughed, something that caught the attention of the people they passed by. Everyone had eyes on them now. “He’s amusing your court with his tricks while also listening to tidbits of information scattered in the hall.”  
  
“Ah,” Sho said knowingly. “That’s how you know about the pillaging. No councilman will speak of pirates in a homecoming banquet prepared for the Emperor and the King.”  
  
“He’s not back in his old ways,” Jun said, vouching for Ninomiya’s character.  
  
“At least one of us keeps an eye on him,” Sho said.  
  
“He intends to stay until the wedding,” Jun told him, on their way back to the dais. Sho would have to change his clothes to look like an Emperor if he had to sit on the throne for the rest of the night. “It’s all he asks me about.”  
  
“The wedding will come once we’ve dealt with what we have to deal with,” Sho said, stopping in the middle of the steps. “I’m sorry,” he added after a moment. “But there’s so much left to do.”  
  
“I know,” Jun said, not appearing like he was saddened or offended. There was understanding in his gaze, the only soft thing in his sharpened features. “We should send scouts on the trade routes for confirmation. Camouflage them as traders, maybe.”  
  
“My disguise gave you that idea?” Sho asked. “Very well. I’ll tell Keiko.”  
  
He let Jun go, and, with simple familiarity, reached out to mess with Jun’s hair, combing out his fringe to conceal his forehead. Normally, Jun would fuss over his hair being touched. But Sho put on a look of concentration, intending to improve Jun’s stern appearance. No wonder the rumors were all about Saiph’s nonexistent intention to conquer.  
  
Satisfied, he drew back and ignored the stares, instead admired his handiwork. Jun was attractive either way, but a fringe suited him best.  
  
“Will you leave me here again on my own?” Jun asked.  
  
Sho looked at the joint thrones, eyes narrowing at the sight of Jun’s gilded seat still inferior in height compared to his.  
  
Still so much to do.  
  
“I could sit on your lap right in front of everyone once I return to make up for my absence earlier, if you like,” he offered, voice soft enough that only Jun heard it.  
  
The faint trace of red on Jun’s cheeks was a nice addition to all the red that he was wearing. Sho’s colors in Sho’s palace. “Go get dressed.”  
  
“As my King wishes.” He inclined his head in farewell and without looking back, stalked out.  
  
\--  
  
They reach the mining station still with a thick cover of clouds overhead. Sho gets off Ohno’s speeder and looks up, seeing a few stars as the clouds float past.  
  
The mining station’s old, its foundations rusting and crumbling, its purpose no longer served and lost to time. Hamal used to have a large deposition of ore in this area; it’s why a garrison was built in the clearing where Sho had situated his camp. This part of the outskirts used to be the most populated area on the planet during the time of Sho’s ancestors.  
  
The Saiphan stands beside him, Nagase’s jacket a bit oversized on him especially around the sleeves. Sho resolves not to speak and instead waits, knowing that impatience will get ahead of his companion. As always.  
  
“A big mine used to be here,” the Saiphan says; it’s not a question. He’s observing the landscape. “Years ago.”  
  
“Many,” Sho says. “We weren’t alive yet when that mine existed and flourished.” He started walking, descending the weeded old path covered in rocks cut in uneven sizes. He hears footsteps follow him.  
  
“Do you come here often?” the Saiphan asks. “When you’re here in the outskirts.”  
  
“To think,” Sho admits. He doesn’t know why; he never admitted that to anyone before. Not even Keiko knew he goes here from time to time, and she knew everything about his whereabouts. “Also to remind myself.”  
  
“Remind yourself?” the Saiphan is now beside him once more, their shoulders nearly touching. “Of what?”  
  
“That nothing lasts,” Sho says, turning to look at him. His hair has grown since his arrival, but he’s diligent with shaving off the stubble that appears on his face once in a while since he became Sho’s personal bodyguard. Basking in the luxuries not all men in the camp can afford. “That whatever’s coming will come, and will end in some way.”  
  
“Do you think you’re going to lose?” the Saiphan faces him, his features serious. Sho hates it. It feels like looking at his conscience, at that optimistic part of him that he has long tried to squash. “You have an army. They are coming, but we’re at an advantage. We can win this.”  
  
We, Sho thinks. Who are we? You and me?  
  
The next question is what surprises him. “Or are you thinking I’ll escape?”  
  
Sho looks at him then and sees him for who he truly is. Crowned, dressed in the finest garment done by the hands of the most gifted seamstresses in the galaxy. Exuding power in every stride, commanding the entire room with a look.  
  
“You should,” Sho says. “It’s what I would’ve done had our positions been reversed.”  
  
“No, you wouldn’t,” the Saiphan says, certain. Sho has to look away. The Saiphan knows nothing. He’s spent his entire life in a planet having the upper hand in everything—the luxuries, the resources, the technological advancements. He’s made to be a king and has never been on the losing side.  
  
What does he know?  
  
“You wouldn’t, and that’s because had our positions been reversed, you won’t let my people destroy one another over a throne,” the Saiphan continues, and he sounds like he had to force those words out.  
  
Choke on those words, Sho wants to say. History told him that Saiphans would see his people conquered or dead, never free or independent. History told him that peace will never exist between their planets.  
  
Instead, Sho breathes out and walks towards the mining station, where the walls and ceilings are still sturdy, sand crushing under his boots. He walks until he finds his usual spot, a small slab of rock that he can sit on and rest against.  
  
The Saiphan doesn’t wait for an invitation. He sits as if it’s his right to do so. He hardly changed in that aspect.  
  
“Our biggest deposits of ore used to come from here, supplying our planet and the rest of the galaxy,” he says, looking up. There’s nothing to see except the rotting metalwork, but it’s easy to imagine that life once existed here, a potent source of economy. “That was before my time and yours, in the time of our ancestors. Before my ancestor eloped with the then-Saiphan king. This mine’s storage was depleted when they started engineering fighter crafts to protect us against invading Saiphans.”  
  
The Saiphan, thankfully, remains quiet. Sho doesn’t know where he’s going with his explanation, only that he’s glad not to be alone. His greatest enemy, now his most valuable ally.  
  
“Nothing lasts,” he whispers as a reminder to himself.  
  
“You won’t lose,” the Saiphan says after a moment. He says it with such certainty that Sho almost believes him.  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“I do,” the Saiphan tells him, looking at him. “You can win this. I know you. I know how you think. You already know what to do.”  
  
“When the time comes,” Sho says, “there will be someone in that army who will be hellbent on killing me.” He meets the Saiphan’s eyes and wonders for a brief moment, how it’d be like had things been different. Had they met differently. “I won’t let him, of course, but when the time comes, I have to face him.”  
  
That’s what scares me, he doesn’t say. There’s no shortage of people who want him dead, but seeing the face of someone who’s so close to his mother is terrifying. They could’ve harmed his family.  
  
“I’ll be with you,” the Saiphan says, and Sho lets out a smile. “I’ll come back.”  
  
For a moment, Sho believes him. There’s something about him that makes Sho believe despite the odds, despite the truths he’s known since he was a child.  
  
“You’re not alone anymore,” the Saiphan says, and Sho shuts his eyes, feeling a gust of wind blow, making his hair stand. These are words he heard before, but only truly believed now.  
  
“No,” he acknowledges, eyes still shut. “I am not.”  
  
He envisions himself standing at the precipice when he gives up, finally accepting the small, unmistakable flicker of a new emotion.  
  
He falls.


	3. Chapter 3

It took months before the border skirmishes had settled. There had been a struggle from the pilfering pirates, and the high prison hadn’t wished to hand over the prisoners to Saiph and Hamal for justice. It took another month of negotiations before they’d come to an agreement on what to do with the outlaws, and by then, the wedding preparations were six months delayed.  
  
Which made the King more demanding in Nino’s assessment. His King, but still.  
  
“You’ve been assured with maximum security, and you want me to try to get past that?” he asked when Jun had sought him out. Crowned or not, he was still Jun, the only man in the galaxy who could put up with his brusque flying techniques “Aren’t you a little paranoid, Majesty.”  
  
“You’ve gotten past the Saiphan security system and was able to cloak whatever subroutine you used so it’s untraceable in all frequencies,” Jun said.  
  
Nino pointed at his temple and grinned. “Genuine talent.” It wasn’t that much of a big deal in the Outer Rim, but he was here now. He could earn thrice than he used to if he went back to his old ways.  
  
“If anyone can get past the security system for my wedding, it’s you,” Jun finished. “If you can’t do it, only then will I feel safe.”  
  
“Nothing will happen to the princeling,” Nino said confidently. That man would always be princeling to him. First impressions last a lifetime. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? He came too close that time; you’re scared it might happen again.”  
  
Jun didn’t deign him with an appropriate response, and Nino knew he’d spoken accurately. “I’m responsible for all the royalties and nobles and other guests in attendance,” Jun said dismissively. “I want them to feel reassured regarding their safety.”  
  
Nino blinked once, twice. Then he nodded after a moment. “All right. I’ll hack into your system. If I can.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jun said. It was an odd request, asking a former swindler later turned royal guest of the Majesties to take down the established security system of the new capital. But Nino was the only person within reach who had the capabilities to do it.  
  
Despite Ohno and Oguri’s repeated reassurances, no doubt.  
  
“Does he know?” Nino asked after a moment.  
  
Jun looked at him, his expressive eyes widening a little. They’d known each other for over a year and still, he could surprise Jun with simple questions. It was why Nino liked him. He was a good sport unlike Ohno or Aiba.  
  
“He doesn’t,” Nino concluded at Jun’s silence. “He’ll call you paranoid, just so you know.”  
  
“I know what he’ll most likely say,” Jun said, and Nino laughed. Of course.  
  
“He’ll also disapprove of it and tell me to disobey an order from my King, at the expense of disobeying an order from him,” Nino said, humming. “A little complicated, as always. You two don’t really make anything easy.”  
  
“We’ll try not to change to make your life more difficult,” Jun teased, smiling. At the sight of his handsome face, Nino thought it was no wonder that his council persisted for a harem as per Saiphan tradition. But of course, he had to surprise everyone by putting an end to the practice.  
  
“If I can crack the system, will it make you happy or not?” Nino asked out of curiosity.  
  
Jun tilted his head like he was considering the question and dissecting it. “Crack it,” he said after a moment, offering Nino a smirk full of challenge, “then we’ll see.”  
  
He left then, a collection of colorful robes and finely tailored suits. Nino shook his head at the sight of him; who knew that the most hated man in the outskirts of Hamal would become the allied planet’s most loved monarch?  
  
Nino looked around, still trying to get used to his surroundings. The new capital was a planetoid halfway between the planets Saiph and Hamal, roughly a quarter of their combined landmasses. It was only a little bigger than Saiph’s citadel and Hamal’s Sheratan combined, but Nino had never seen skies as clear as the ones here. If he looked up, he’d see what part of the galaxy he was in.  
  
No matter where he went, looking up was the only thing that didn’t change. The people did, the livelihood did, his safety did, but the stars remained the same. In the Outer Rim, he’d been so used to looking up to remind himself that he was a mere speck in the universe that it was a strange thought that there was no need to do so now.  
  
If he hadn’t been betrayed at that time, he wouldn’t be here.  
  
The idea was quite amusing; the universe never runs out of surprises.  
  
He stood, heading for the spacecraft that Jun had provided for him according to the specifications he’d wanted. He could crack the security system; he knew it. He’d done worse—decoding the algorithms of mining facilities and spacedocks to hijack their ships and steal their loot, unlocking the doors of famed galactic museums to acquire their most precious collection. A planetoid-wide security system should be no trouble.  
  
Nino cracked his knuckles and got to work, confident he’d accomplish the task he’d been given in three days.  
  
\--  
  
Three days and fifty-six cloaking devices later, Nino had the pleasure of welcoming the Emperor of Hamal in his humble spaceship turned personal living quarters.  
  
“I don’t normally host royalty in my abode but be my guest, princeling,” he greeted as genially as he could despite refusing to leave his seat and merely watching Sho stride inside with his robes flowing behind him. He was a vision—for a moment, Nino understood what had made Jun reject the idea of a harem.  
  
“Any luck with his request as of late?” Sho asked after a quick nod of acknowledgment. After months of association, he was finally accustomed to how much bullshit Nino said on a daily basis. But still not immune to it, Nino hoped.  
  
Nino blinked innocently. “What request?”  
  
Sho leveled him with a look, one that he returned in equal measure. Most people would lower their gazes, but Nino was not like most of them. He was no ordinary subject.  
  
“I’ve heard he wanted you to take the security system of the capital down,” Sho said, indulging him. Nino liked that Sho was a fast learner—he’d long learned that sometimes, his stubbornness would achieve nothing when pitted against Nino’s.  
  
Nino hummed.  
  
“Well?” Sho asked, now taking liberties and having a seat in one of the plush chairs closest to him. “Any luck?”  
  
Nino passed a sweeping glance over the holoboard in the ship before turning to look back at Sho, who studied him. This was where he and Jun had differed: Jun would wait for an answer before looking for one while Sho would start looking for one before he’d allow himself to wait.  
  
Together, they seemed too perfect for one another.  
  
Sho rested his chin against his knuckles, and Nino waited. “That difficult?”  
  
Nino snorted. It was a rude gesture in front of an Emperor, but said Emperor was insulting his capabilities and he could only allow so much under his roof. “Hardly,” he said, earning Sho’s grin. “I’ll have you know that I’m sixty-eight percent done with unraveling whatever intricate code you’ve had your people do.”  
  
“So you’re saying that given enough time, it can be taken down,” Sho concluded. He’d always been smart, which had set him above the rest. His intellect was no secret, but the way he used it was the amusing part. At least to Nino. “Be honest with me now: how many days?”  
  
“Five,” Nino said. “Give any man or experienced pirate from the Outer Rim a week and your wedding’s in danger.”  
  
Sho’s eyes strayed from his for a fleeting moment before returning, and Nino had to smile. If Sho and Jun had their differences, this was where they were too similar: before anything else, their priority was one another. It ought to make him gag, but Nino had seen too many terrible things that this was one of the few romantic ones he’d allow himself to be touched by.  
  
“What can be done?” Sho asked seriously now, and Nino flipped the holoboard open.  
  
He opened lines upon lines of code, highlighting parts that needed reinforcing. “This here,” he pointed at a subroutine, “this makes the first thirty lines utterly useless. Either you stick with this or add another routine that will bypass the feedback. Either way will give you equilibrium. But leave it as is and it’s one of the many mistakes.”  
  
“Can you fix it?” Sho asked.  
  
Nino stared at him.  
  
Sho grinned. “Of course you can. Fix it.”  
  
Nino did, rearranging codes with a few flicks of his fingers. “This wasn’t what your fiancé asked me to do.”  
  
“His request will take twice your time should you actually do it,” Sho said. “The entire point of this was to strengthen the capital’s security. I will not have an ambush on my wedding day, not when we have important guests coming. Denebia will be here.”  
  
Nino was aware. In fact, the entire galaxy had to be. It was the event of the century, delayed for months until the alliance was firmly established. Despite their claims, Nino thought the two made good rulers so far: they had prioritized the welfare and future of both planets over themselves. Their subjects had been put first. Even Nino had experienced the benefits of that: he’d been given leave to return to his home planet whenever he wished, and he planned to do so.  
  
He just wanted to stick around for the wedding. But since it had gotten delayed, he’d had to participate in whatever countermeasures Sho and Jun had planned to protect their borders. Cracking the new capital’s security system was supposedly his way of relaxing from what had happened in the past few months, but here he was, chatting with an Emperor and perfecting a flawed system for him.  
  
For free.  
  
It was unthinkable. He’d probably experience a seizure after this.  
  
“Who did you pay to do the coding for you?” he said after the ninth subroutine he had to delete in front of Sho. “You paid them to fuck up this much?”  
  
“I paid them to give you a hard time,” Sho said with a smile, earning Nino’s unamused look. Sho laughed. “I’m afraid we Hamalis aren’t quite adept at these things yet. We’re learning, but we need more time.”  
  
“I won’t teach anyone my methods,” he said flatly. “They’re probably unheard of and borderline unlawful, anyway. You know me. You know where I come from.”  
  
He’d heard the talks from the nobles, that the Majesties were continuing to welcome a former wanted criminal in their graces, that he’d been pardoned and given leave to return home whenever he wished. Nino wasn’t ashamed of his origins; he’d done what he had to do to survive.  
  
“I’m not asking you to,” Sho said softly. “I will never. Your methods are your own. I’m only asking you to help me ensure the safety of my people on that day. A final favor from you.”  
  
“The last time you asked me for a favor, you offered me something,” Nino recalled with amusement. He kept working, deleting codes and adding a couple more lines to make the system flawless. “Anything to offer this time?”  
  
“You already have everything you want,” Sho said. “What can I possibly give you?”  
  
Nino had to stop then, lowering his hands from the holograms. “Jun-kun,” he said finally, seeing Sho’s eyes narrow, “make him—”  
  
“Happy?” Sho interrupted with a smile. “I will. You’ve grown quite attached to him, even from before.” Nino could detect no jealousy from his tone; he was simply letting Nino know.  
  
“I looked after him in the outskirts; he’s like a little brother to me,” Nino said. “He is also my King and though I don’t look like much, if he asks, I’ll think about it. I wouldn’t for anybody else and you know that.”  
  
“I do,” Sho said with a soft laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides. “And I also know you know exactly why I’m asking you to fix every error you’ve seen so far.”  
  
Like him, Sho wouldn’t for anybody else.  
  
There had to be something about Jun that made people want to protect him. Nino thought it might be how he was younger than both of them, but there was also something else. He couldn’t define it, but Jun was perhaps the closest person he had for a brother and a friend. His first friend from the outskirts.  
  
“I’ll do it,” Nino promised. “I quite like how the skies look up from this new city you’ve both established. I will hate to see it littered with battleships defending against invaders.” He looked at Sho then, through the floating lines of code. Not too different from how they’d first met. “You’ll have your wedding. I guarantee it.”  
  
Sho didn’t say anything, but his expression softened. Nino continued to work, only letting out a chuckle when Sho finally spoke after letting the silence stretch.  
  
“May I stay?”  
  
It was unthinkable that someone with so much power had to ask for permission, but Nino liked hearing it. “Never took you for the type to run from your courtly affairs, but as I said earlier: be my guest.”  
  
“The attendants are becoming unbearable with the wardrobe,” Sho explained with a slight roll of his eyes, making Nino grin. “We both know whose fault that is.”  
  
“You picked the wrong coordinator,” Nino said with amusement, and for the first time since Sho’s arrival to his ship, they shared a laugh.  
  
\--  
  
Nino wanted to see the stars. More than that, he wanted to visit different planets to compare how the stars in Alnitak differed from anywhere else. It was what had prompted him to sneak inside a cargo ship headed for the Outer Rim, not quite knowing where it was and what kind of life was there.  
  
That had been years ago. He often looked back when he had time to himself, wondering if the old dream still lived inside him. He’d seen the stars. He’d been to hundreds of planets in his time working different jobs in the Outer Rim in order to survive. He’d been home and back, had fought in two wars and at least five skirmishes since the establishment of the New Empire. For his efforts, he’d been awarded handsomely and welcomed to the new capital with open arms.  
  
He wondered if the boy from the corn fields ever imagined himself an ally of the King, striving to perfect a flawed security to ensure his safety. Nino didn’t think he was sentimental, but he knew he’d always have a soft spot for people like Jun—hardworking, stubborn, headstrong, and devoted. If Jun hadn’t been King, Nino thought he’d still follow Jun should the man ask.  
  
“The wedding is in three days,” Aiba said to him when he thought he’d secured a secluded spot in the gardens. He’d seen enough banquets and wanted some peace as he drank his fill of the liquor. “With all the dinner parties hosted by the noblemen and women in their honor, we’d never run out of socializing to do.”  
  
“I’m not very sociable unless I choose to be,” Nino said. “Shouldn’t you be training your soldiers? Preparing them to stand still and not gawk when the King and Emperor make their union known to the galaxy?”  
  
Aiba smiled; he was one of the most formidable fighters Nino had the pleasure of meeting. He’d been an indispensable force of nature when they had to defend the new borders from smugglers and pirates. “They know what to do.”  
  
“I fixed the shitty system your people made,” he bragged, earning Aiba’s laugh. “Anyone with hands could’ve have dismantled that system in seconds.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Aiba said defensively, but he was still smiling. “We’re still learning. In time, we’ll be up to par with the rest of Saiphans. But for now, we defer to their expertise.”  
  
“You mean _my_ expertise,” Nino corrected.  
  
Aiba raised his own glass in a toast. “Of course. Master swindler.”  
  
The old title reminded Nino of winter solstice in an underground prison. Back then, he had no idea who Jun was. The best guess he’d had was that Jun had been a nobleman who’d lost the favor of the monarchy, but to his defense, he hadn’t been keeping up with the royal family of Saiph for years.  
  
He turned to the direction of the palace, where laughter could be heard. The people were enjoying themselves. “My good friend with the silver tongue is no longer there, is he?” he asked knowingly.  
  
Aiba chuckled, taking the spot beside him. “The King and the Emperor retired together without informing anyone. Like the Hamali palace, this new palace was created with secret passageways.”  
  
“Which are unbeknownst to the people but not to you,” Nino said. Aiba nodded. “After the wedding, I’ll return home.”  
  
“The King knows,” Aiba acknowledged. “Even the Emperor does. I’ve been instructed to ensure maximum security for your ship on that day; they wanted you to have the most pristine spacecraft for the journey.”  
  
“How generous,” Nino said with a lazy grin; he knew all this already. Jun had come by and had told him personally; thanking him for his services and promising him a place should he wish to return anytime.  
  
But Nino’s had enough of royal affairs. He already had dozens of stories to tell back home. This might not be the kind of retirement he’d originally dreamed about, but it was better than expected. He knew he’d be in the good graces of the New Empire for as long as he lived; Jun wasn’t the type to forget people he’d owed his life to.  
  
Same for Sho.  
  
In a way, Nino would probably miss not bearing witness to how those two govern two planets together, but he knew he’d outstayed his welcome. He’d fought for them, spied for them, and fought for them again. He’d reinforced the security system as they’d both asked. There was nothing left for a man of his talents to do.  
  
“The Emperor would like to know how you prefer to be compensated for your time,” Aiba said after a moment. “That is what I’m here for aside from sharing a toast with you.”  
  
Nino thought about it, eyes focused on the sky. A foreign sky, but one that perhaps symbolized lasting peace and what Nino hoped to be a prosperous reign.  
  
“If I ask for his earring, will he give it?” he asked.  
  
Aiba’s laugh was loud and infectious, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “If you ask nicely, he might. Who knows? He’s always been unpredictable.”  
  
Nino’s own laugh echoed in the balcony, and he shared another toast with Aiba. “To the princeling, who once had me and his husband-to-be imprisoned, gagged, and freezing in the outskirts of Hamal.”  
  
“To Sho-chan,” Aiba said, finally dropping formalities. They both took a huge gulp of their respective drinks, and Nino raised his in another toast.  
  
“To Jun-kun,” he said, voice turning soft, “who is a sore loser at cards, an awful liar, and someone who once hated his husband-to-be so much that I thought he’d choke on it.”  
  
Aiba had a serene smile on his face now, nodding. “To the King.”  
  
Nino finished his drink and looked up to the stars, thinking about himself from twenty years ago that had decided to be impulsive which had led him here.  
  
It was as if the stars had finally listened after nearly two decades of wishing on them for a better life.  
  
“May their reign last long,” Nino said. In his heart, he thanked them both and made another wish.  
  
Towards the stars he dearly loved since he was a child.  
  
\--  
  
Unlike noblemen, women, and common folk who truly wished to catch a glimpse of the King and Emperor, Nino had opted to stay in the sidelines, close to a pillar that had reminded him too much of the time Jun had offered him his freedom.  
  
The wedding was as extravagant as expected; it was an affair carefully planned for and coordinated, just as Nino had expected from someone like Jun organizing one. Every music entrance was perfect and the arrangement of valued guests allowed them to mingle with one another, in line with the New Empire’s views.  
  
To Nino, it was as if they were making a statement, letting the entire galaxy know that this was how they planned for the rest of their reign to be. No more prejudices or cultural ignorance, no more centuries of unjust treatment and hatred that spanned generations. They were making history together right here, letting everyone know.  
  
Jun looked immaculate in his wardrobe, his eyes bright and smile wide. The white of his coat and trousers were lined with gold in intricate patterns which only served to complement his features. In front of both planets and the entire galaxy, he was young king resplendent, as radiant as he’d been on his ascension. He opted not to wear his crown, a circlet of gold that had once caught Nino’s eye given his inclinations. But Jun didn’t need to—there was no mistaking who he was.  
  
Nino let his own cheer join with the rest, the entire hall erupting into adoration and well-wishes for Jun at his appearance. Like this, with him simply a part of the crowd, Nino thought he’d hardly be noticed, but as Jun walked the halls in procession, his eyes somehow met Nino’s.  
  
Jun nodded in his direction, mouthing a thank you in his direction, and Nino had to smile.  
  
The procession continued, but Jun and his entourage stopped at the center of the hall. The music changed, catering to the traditional tunes known to the Hamali, and Nino shook his head at how elaborate everything was. Only Jun would orchestrate something like this. He wondered if he, Sho, and their entire entourage had to rehearse for this. Nino wouldn’t put it past them—finding the time for something as precise as this despite their court duties.  
  
When Sho appeared, the crowd held their breath—Nino included. He was in the traditional Hamali garb of flowing robes held by a thick sash around his waist, dyed in pure white and also lined with gold that he looked majestic and ethereal. A perfect complement to Jun’s own wardrobe. The earring glittered when he lifted his head, and despite it being the only jewelry on his person, it was the only one that mattered. The lining of his trousers were silver, wide-rimmed and traditional, their edges gliding across the floors as Sho walked.  
  
When he turned to face the people, Nino cheered with everyone else. Behind Sho, he saw Aiba and Keiko followed by the rest of his retinue from the outskirts. Familiar faces Nino had known for over a year, had fought and won battles with. At the far end, he saw Ohno—or at least, the unmistakable vibrant hue of his cybernetic arm.  
  
He never screamed so much before but he did as Sho’s entourage made their way to the center, until only Sho stepped forward at the same time Jun did. The two of them shared a bewildered expression on their faces for a second before they both smiled, and it dawned on Nino that this was perhaps the first time they’d seen one another in wedding garments.  
  
Traditions, he thought. No wonder they both looked momentarily stupefied.  
  
This far, when Sho turned to take Jun’s proffered arm, the earring caught light and glinted, and Nino watched as Jun presented Sho to his people as per Saiphan custom. Flowers rained as the crowd cheered and tossed assorted flora to the direction of the royal couple, Saiphans and Hamali celebrating with the rest of the galaxy. It was as if their planets hadn’t been keen to fight one another a couple of years back.  
  
Jun and Sho then ascended the dais together where the Empress Dowager of Hamal was. According to Hamali custom, only a Hamali royalty may officiate the wedding of another royalty, and Nino had to admire the care Jun had done to make sure all aspects of each other’s culture were observed. Like this, no one in Hamal would dare question their union.  
  
Nino half-listened to the vows being said, not really a fan of such theatrics. He simply liked seeing his friends happy. This far, Jun and Sho were two figures in white standing side-by-side, the entire galaxy gathered around them. In the sea of faces Nino could make out people hailing from different planets, and perhaps this was the beginning of something for the New Empire. That was what people kept calling it, and to Nino, it looked like it would last.  
  
It would be moments before the royal couple faced one another once more, and the cheers were deafening when they shared a kiss—chaste but one that left them smiling. Nino’s cheeks ached because of how big his own smile was.  
  
He watched them descend from the dais together and complete the procession, now followed by both of their entourage, and perhaps this was a story he could share with his niece and nephew, that he’d witnessed the wedding of the century, an alliance sealed in perpetuity.  
  
He thought of their amused and open expressions as he imagined relaying the story, making sure to commit every extravagance Jun had worked hard for to memory. He shouldn’t miss a single detail about it when he tells everyone at Alnitak.  
  
It was time to go home.  
  
\--  
  
Nino was not big on wedding presents, and it would be close to midnight by the time he managed to approach Jun who’d spent hours upon hours accepting congratulatory messages and gifts from important guests.  
  
It happened when Jun stepped out for (presumably) fresh air, and much as Nino knew that Jun didn’t like being approached from behind, he couldn’t resist.  
  
Jun nearly jumped, glaring at him before realizing who it was, a hand now braced on the limestone that lined the balcony. “Don’t do that.”  
  
“With you making that expression every time, I couldn’t resist,” Nino said with a smile. He made obeisance, exaggerating it as always. “Congratulations. You and the princeling are officially joined for as long as you’ll have each other.”  
  
“You listened to our vows?” Jun said with a laugh.  
  
“Half-listened,” Nino corrected. “Not my fault I have a sharp memory.” He looked around. “Where’s he?”  
  
“It’s his turn to face the guests,” Jun said. Nino didn’t miss the new ring he sported around his finger; from the design alone it looked like a gift from the princeling. An intertwined cord of white gold that fit his finger rather nicely. “You’re off to Alnitak first thing in the morning, then?”  
  
“Yes,” Nino said. “Your capital is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve been gone too long.” He glanced at Jun briefly. He wondered if Jun knew how much he’d left behind when Jun had asked. “You can always reach me if you need me for anything. Or if the princeling does. But I’d really like to go back home.”  
  
“There is someone waiting for you,” Jun said after a moment.  
  
Nino nodded. “My nieces and nephew, my family.”  
  
Jun shook his head. “Not just them. Right?”  
  
Nino took a deep breath before turning to face him, his head now tilted. He didn’t take Jun for a sharp one, but perhaps he’d underestimated him. Jun wasn’t just a pretty face—he’d long learned that. There was always more to him than what most people see.  
  
He nodded. It was the only answer he could give.  
  
“Safe travels to the stars,” Jun said, eyes full of understanding. He wouldn’t ask. Nino knew he’d never unless it was Nino’s wish to share. Not now though; Jun was in the height of celebrating his own wedding. If Nino had any news to give him, it would have to wait. “May they shine upon you.”  
  
“And you,” Nino returned. He dug inside his coat and presented it with an open palm, seeing Jun’s eyes widen at the sight of it. “This is my most prized possession. It was the first thing I won from a game that I bet my life to in the Outer Rim. I know it’s not an appropriate wedding gift, but this is all I have to give.”  
  
Jun stared at it, undoubtedly remembering it. After all, Sho had left it on Nino’s person back in the outskirts despite knowing he’d had it. And now he was giving it away.  
  
“This has been with me for years, protecting me and from time to time including those around me,” Nino admitted. “I hope it’ll do the same for you.”  
  
Jun accepted it, taking the hilt from him and examining the blade. It glittered under the moonlight, still sharp and lethal even after nearly two decades. “I pray I’ll never use it, but should I need to, I hope I possess the same skills that protected you and give justice to the weapon you kept closest to you.”  
  
“You can always use it to skin an apple for the princeling,” Nino said, and Jun laughed, rich and jovial, his shoulders shaking. “Or to slice tomatoes evenly, I don’t know. Where are you two headed for the honeymoon?”  
  
Jun’s face went hilariously blank and it was Nino’s turn to laugh. “Don’t worry,” Nino reassured him. “I didn’t tell anyone.”  
  
“How did you know we were planning to go somewhere after this?” Jun asked.  
  
Nino shrugged. “Oh-chan.”  
  
Jun shook his head and looked up. “Somewhere out there. Just the two of us. Just like you, we’re heading for the stars.”  
  
“But unlike me, you have to come back,” Nino said. “Kingly duties and all.”  
  
“But not until we find the time,” Jun said, and he looked so happy that Nino was glad for him. After all the suffering and the hardships he had faced, he deserved this. More than anyone else, Jun deserved the peace and happiness he finally had after putting it aside for the sake of his planet and the alliance.  
  
“Tell the princeling I said goodbye,” Nino said. “And that he’ll always be princeling to me.”  
  
“And he knows and is only letting you do it because he’s secretly fond of it,” Jun said. “He’ll never admit it, but don’t ever tell him you’ve heard it from me.” He faced Nino once more, and he did what Nino thought no King would do in front of a former wanted criminal.  
  
He bowed.  
  
Nino was left stunned momentarily.  
  
“Thank you for everything,” Jun said sincerely. “None of this would be possible without your help. If you didn’t come back at that time—”  
  
“My King asked me to,” Nino interrupted, “so I did. Don’t bow. It’s unbecoming of a King.”  
  
“I owe you my life when we acted as a diversion in Lucida Ventris,” Jun said. “I can bow to whoever I like.” He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Nino’s form, and Nino reciprocated. “Thank you. You’re always welcome to return whenever you like, but I hope you’ll be happily retired in your home planet for the rest of your days if that is what you wish.”  
  
The stars twinkled overhead and Nino looked to them as he thought of home.  
  
“If you somehow manage to find a surrogate for a little princeling or a princess, make me godfather,” Nino said as he let Jun go, and Jun laughed. “Then I can introduce myself to others as godfather to the Heir to the Joint Throne of Saiph and Hamal.”  
  
Jun’s laugh was a comforting sound.  
  
“Only if you promise to be here when we present them to our people,” Jun said. His eyes twinkled. “With that someone you hold dear, of course. You’re both welcome here.”  
  
Nino thought that was worth crossing the entire galaxy for, but he didn’t let Jun know. Not yet. Maybe once they finally have an heir, which would probably take years until their rule was secured. They both have to find a way, after all.  
  
For all Nino knew, he might have his own offspring before Jun did. But that didn’t matter. Once the news of an heir reached every corner of Alnitak, he’ll board his spaceship and take that hyperspace jump without a second thought.  
  
“We’ll see.”  
  
Somewhere in him, he believed this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be here in this planetoid. But for now, it was time to return home.


End file.
